A song to listen to with this post? The two songs that I can think of that speak of things hanging from a tree are too morose (“Tom Dooley“) or grim (“Strange Fruit”). For this reason, the Tone Police have declared – no song.
Self-indulgent anecdote to accompany this post? When I was a boy, we had an Easter tree. My mother cut still dormant forsythia branches. Once in the heat of the indoors, they budded and bloomed for Easter. From the branches she hung hollowed-out eggs that were painted and embellished with ribbon and braiding. She cut out a window into the egg and created small scenes inside with porcelain baby animals, flowers, bushes, etc. It was magical.
And also magical are the several dozen trees scattered around Berkeley with objects hung from the branches. The big enchiladas in my book are on Colusa and Hillegass:
There are many more, perhaps not as spectacular or professional artistic, but quirky all the same:
My friend was immersed in learning shorthand when I went to show him these photographs.