BB Added Ornaments
The summer after Christine finished third grade Grandpa Max introduced her to the world of Harry Potter. Whenever she had a sleepover at his apartment during one of her parents' date nights, or the week he pinch-hit as babysitter while she had chicken pox, she'd sit right next to him as he read to her. Mindful of his daughter's concern that the later volumes were too dark for a young child, he didn't stray beyond the first two books. He took extra care explaining things during The Sorcerer's Stone, listening patiently to her questions, and often supplied vivid details from his own fruitful imagination.
Once they had relished The Chamber of Secrets, he began sharing stories from the later books, carefully edited to omit scenes like Bathilda Bagshot becoming Nagini in her dusty decrepit cottage bedroom. As he sparingly described Harry's visit to his parents' graves, Christine was captivated by the wreath of Christmas roses Hermoine conjured to place at the base of their headstones in the snow-covered grass.
Looking up at Max, she exclaimed, "That's like what we do for Great-Grand Pops and his friends on July 4th and Memorial Day, right?"
The Booth men had a long tradition of honoring heroic veterans at Arlington, Philadelphia National Cemetery, and other little graveyards where fellow comrades and friends were laid to rest. Edwin had taken his young sons to visit his fallen pilot buddies, and Hank's peanut butter sandwiches and Coca Cola toasts to James Rawlins were a yearly event. The year his little great-granddaughter graduated from creamy to chunky peanut butter had been a favorite milestone for the pair. So it wasn't surprising that Christine made an immediate connection with Harry's cemetery visit.
Max had to explain to Booth and Tempe why Christine was asking about Christmas roses in mid-July, but the agent was touched by his daughter's idea. So it was that a visit to Pops became a part of Booth's Christmas celebration. He and Christine would leave for Philadelphia early Saturday morning the first week of December, stopping first to select a wreath at Grams' favorite floral shop, Robertson's Flowers, now run by a great-granddaughter of the original proprietress. Christine insisted the garland they chose had to include Christmas roses. From there, they'd head to Resurrection Cemetery for a brief chat with Pops and Grams, a quick prayer, after brushing away dry brown leaves and twigs.
Cocoa and donuts were the next order of the day before hitting the highway back to DC. The main topic of discussion during their return trip was Mommy's Christmas gift. This carefully-considered object varied from year to year; sometimes purchased, sometimes made by determined little hands with help from dad. Ever since fourth grade had begun in September, Christine had known exactly what to create. On neighborhood walks, she searched assiduously for the perfect stick, critically examining branches and twigs as seriously as her mother did with bones.
Once found, the fairly straight piece of wood was secreted at Max's house, preventing discovery by Momma or their occasional cleaning lady. She shared her idea with Grandpa rather than Dad, just to insure her secret was safe. Max suggested finding a second longer branch for Booth, and a little one for herself. Christine insisted they choose one for him as well.
Uncle Bugs was consulted by telephone regarding the best way to preserve the wands. Should they sand or varnish the wood, leave the bark intact or peel it away? Hodgins came over one Saturday afternoon in November to consult on this very serious decision. He presented the young artist with various options and ideas. Christine decided to peel one, leave one intact, and seal a third with 'polythane' after a bit of sanding. Chuckling, the two men set about helping her.
Aunt Angela supplied lengths of velvet ribbon; red, forest green, royal blue, and copper gold. The winding and tying didn't go so well, so wider satin ribbon was tried instead. Much easier to tighten and smooth, this proved a perfect solution for personalizing each wand. Christine smiled with satisfaction at having done this part of her project independently. The miniature wands varied in length from three to six inches. Max helped her hot glue a ribbon loop to each one for hanging on the tree Christmas morning.
She found some long narrow boxes amid Max's gift wrapping supplies. Tissue paper proved easiest for concealing her gifts, with lots of tape for good measure. Her grandpa agreed to keep the packages at his place, since Booth was notorious for hunting his gifts in the weeks before Christmas. Christine had an inordinately difficult time waiting for her big 'reveal'
A few days after their initial visit, Booth was surprised to receive a phone call from Dorothy Robertson in Philly. Although he'd known her growing up, the two didn't have much contact as adults. The florist explained that she had told her grandmother about meeting Christine. The old lady was still an avid reader and had introduced her grandkids to Harry Potter's world. She realized why Christine wanted Christmas roses, and wanted to meet her the next time Booth returned to his hometown. He agreed to arrange a visit the following month, and regular visits between the two Harry Potter fans became a fixture of each trip to Philly.
Upon their Sunday return, while setting the table for dinner, Christine had described meeting Hazel Robertson to her mother in enthusiastic detail, including their discussion of Christmas roses. In typical Bones' fashion, Brennan had stopped stirring her Puttanesca sauce and carefully explained to her daughter that 'Christmas roses' weren't actually roses at all, but Helleborus niger, a plant native to Europe and Asia beloved by 17th century gardeners, which blooms through the winter around Christmastime, and is favored by Germans as much as the poinsettia is in America. In response, Christine had piped up that its relative species Helleborus orientalis, flowers in springtime and is 'called Lenten rose'. Over their daughter's head, Booth stopped making salad to smile at Brennan. Christine's botanical knowledge was constantly enriched by Jack Hodgins' spontaneous sharing of intriguing facts.
On Christmas morning as the gift-opening chaos wound down, Max winked at his granddaughter, announced he'd forgotten a package in the car, and headed for the front door to retrieve it.
"I'll help, Granpa!" the little girl responded, jumping to her feet to follow him outside.
"Chrissy, your coat-" Booth reminded the back of her head as the door swung shut. A needless admonition since they returned in minutes, ruddy-cheeked and grinning.
"These are for you, Momma, Daddy! Open 'em up!" Christine thrust the two boxes into her parents' hands, then reached for the third Max still held after they sat down again.
As paper and tissue were torn and pushed aside, she explained her gift and Max's help in the project.
"Uncle Bugs gave me a lot of great advice too!"
And thereafter, three small wands, as carefully hand-crafted as Ollivander's, adorned the Booth family Christmas tree each year until Christine took them to her own home decades later.