Hat Trees
“Let’s make an Easter hat tree, Terra!” Mom’s excitement during random crafts filled the entire house. The week before this we made giant eggs. Balloons wrapped in string. Covered in craft glue. Left to dry. Then POP! What remains is a hollow string-egg. Beautiful.
An Easter hat tree takes more time. More care.
“Put the cups upside down on the cookie sheet. Not too close. Perfect! This next part is important, Terra. The most important job. Keep an eye on the cups. Watch closely. Let me know when they start melting.”
Mom opens the oven, puts the cup-covered cookie sheet on the rack. Closes the door. I sit, staring through the small window. Waiting.
“Mom! They’re melting!” I holler as the Styrofoam cups shrink. Somehow forming perfect versions of a variety of tiny hats. I jump back as she quickly pulls the sculptures from the heat.
“Ok,” Mom says, smiling wide. “Now we paint.”
All night we painted those hats. Brightly colored hats any woman would have fought for in a department store. While they dried, Mom, with her work glove covered hands, twisted and formed strands of metal wire, weaving a fantastic tree. I only watched this magic at work. Gazed in awe as something dull and utilitarian took the shape of something magnificent.
“It’s time, Terra. Let’s put it together,” Mom says as she pushes the roots of the tree into the Styrofoam base inside the pot, covering it with craft moss. Her eyes light up as I place each hat on the branches she created. The hats rest upon the branches. Fragile little things. Delicate as a smoke ring.
That hat tree came back to me during the 2021 holiday season. Calling all the kids home, we spent a whole weekend melting hats. Finding the most perfect ones. Sitting around the selection we laughed as we painted. A multitude of designs painted by a variety of personalities. An African elephant scene. Christmas trees. Cats. Stripes. Polka dots. A beautiful myriad created from the hearts of those who loved Mom.
Finding a box big enough proved the hardest task. Harder even than molding a tree from wire. Mom had made it look so easy as I sat at our counter watching. I learned, decades later, how difficult that task is. Yet when Mom opened that box on Christmas, we saw her smile. Saw her eyes light back up. That joy filled not only her but overflowed into us all. That tree stayed up on her table for months.
Terra Orndorff 