English

Christmas trees

I put up a Christmas apple tree at my parents backyard this morning. I know it sounds exotic, but we do it every year. We have a regular one inside, but we like this little tradition. I managedto convinced my father to let me do it (it involves some wire cut and paste) and he even lent me his knife after a little hesitation. I had the invaluable help of my mom´s gardener. He is not her gardener, just the guy who takes care of it when there is somethingto be done. And he is hot. Not in a Desperate Housewives way, he is more the rural neo-hippie type. Blonde, blue eyed, long hair, and he leftthe city when he was 19 to build a house in the woods and set up his own landscaping business. It sounds good. He is being coming here for years, but I still feel uneasy around him. Maybe because of this teenage fantasy of mine. I always thought I would end up with a countryside guy, taking care of my parent´s land. Actually, I was in love for a few yers with my candidate, we even had a bet about our kids. He was sure I would be the mother of his. I said no. I won. I haven´t seen him in ages, andI know nothing about him. It didn´t work out, we never dated actually, but we always liked each other. It´s the midlife crisis again, or the fact that I´m back home? Home is a little village in the mountains (and a village in Spain can very well mean 100 people, which is the case). But it´s quite interesting. The first night the firefighters had to come to my neighbour´s house because the chimney had caught fire… Life in the woods. With a Christmas apple tree.

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