Last week we took the four-wheeler out to scout the perfect wild cedar on the family farm. It is still strange for me, a Michigander, to be cutting down a Christmas tree with no snow. Nonetheless, the smell of fresh cedar now permeates the four rooms of our tiny apartment, and the tree handsomely wears all of our most precious family ornaments.
The other night, as we sat in it's twinkling glow, I asked Daniel, "Is our tree alive or dead?" "You just asked one of the most debated ethical questions of the day," said my husband. "What is life?"
We went on to talk about the qualifications of life. Is it a pulse and brain waves? Is it the fact that the tree is green and drinking water, even though it has been cut from it's roots and will never be able to act like a tree again? It was an interesting question. What do you think, is our tree alive or dead?
