I’m in College Station this week for the 30th annual Plant Protection Association meeting. After returning to the hotel to write and meet my publication deadline, I decided to take a break and go for a walk. I function better when I’ve had some sunshine.

So, I put on my tennis shoes, along with my headphones with Christmas music playing, and set off.

As I walked through hotel and restaurant parking lots, I spotted some red and white tents and realized it was a pop-up Christmas tree store. My memories of buying a live Christmas tree go back to when I was a little girl, living in Saskatchewan, Canada, where I was born.

As I walked into the parking lot store, the smell of pine hit me, and it brought memories of when we would go to a similar setup in Canada. It’s amazing the power of smell, how something so long ago can feel like yesterday because of memory imprinted in a scent. I could mentally see the rows and rows of trees, remember the excitement of picking one out, and then once we got it home the struggle to get it into the tree stand, secured and straight. I’m not sure we ever really got it straight.

Then there was the task of keeping it watered, so the needles wouldn’t dry out and break off so quickly. I can still hear the dry needles clicking as my mom periodically vacuumed them up around the felt tree skirt she’d handmade.

When I remember Christmas in Canada — in addition to blizzards and snow measured in feet — I also recall the excitement of getting to eat Christmas oranges. I don’t think that is their official name, but because they were so expensive, we only got them at Christmas time. The oranges came in a wooden box, with tissue-like paper, and we couldn’t wait to devour them. We were Always disappointed once they were gone (which didn’t take long with three kids).

We would also have on the table a bowl of mixed nuts — walnuts, almonds, hazelnuts, and Brazil nuts. The Brazil nuts were always my favorite, especially when I could crack the shell and remove the nut whole. Mom had a set of silver nutcrackers and picks that she would put out each year. They kind of became the universal sign that it was officially Christmas at our house. I still have them today.

It was all pretty simple: a live tree, the scent of pine, Christmas oranges, and mixed nuts. And yet, they stir precious memories for me. As you celebrate with family and friends, as you ache for those who are no longer here, and as you enjoy the gift of giving and the blessing of receiving, breathe deeply, savor the simple moments, and have a Merry Christmas!