The season of preparations is upon us. Kitchens, craft tables, and party stores are bursting with action. Two recent and quite separate events have caused me to reflect even more on the drama of preparation.

This past Saturday, a massive Tannenbaum was hoisted into the middle of Market Square here in Weimar. Framed by a Neo-Gothic Rathaus and the half-timbered atelier of Renaissance artist Lucas Cranach, this square has witnessed the gamut of human pageantry from glorious medieval fests to Hitler’s dark rallies.

But Saturday afternoon the drama centered on the longest flatbed truck I’ve ever seen. It crisscrossed the cobblestoned square. Lashed to its bed (and dwarfing it) was a massive pine tree, freshly cut in the Thuringian mountains.

The day brought classic November weather—grey and frosty. I hadn’t bundled up well for my dash to buy eggs and milk in anticipation of Sunday’s closed shops. Certainly I didn’t expect to turn the corner and be on the front row of a real-life drama.

Shadowed against the sky, four men gingerly unlashed the tree. An enormous crane moved closer and dropped a chain. Patiently, the men secured the chain to the trunk and triple-checked their work. More minutes passed. Then, silently, this giant tree began to ascend! Up it went, dangling as if a twig caught in a spider web. Almost imperceptibly, the crane coaxed the tree over and eased it into a big hole in the cobblestone square.

The whole process took about an hour. A very cold hour! And a rewarding one.

Seeing the backstage action of virtually anything does change one’s perception, whether it be making an apple pie or polishing the silver service to a shine, or . . . staging an opera.

In September, my Smithsonian group was touring the famous Viennese Opera. We include this tour every route, but this time, to my surprise, we were allowed briefly to go backstage.

Several in the group were not “opera fans.” In fact, I had to persuade them to join us, assuring them they would like it (and hoping I was right).

It was pleasant enough for everyone as we proceeded. But when the invitation to see backstage was issued, a higher energy overtook us. We were permitted to stand in the flat, watching a crew dismantling the previous night’s show and mounting that evening’s set. Much as the crane guided the tree, wires from the top of the house were guiding walls and décor into place.

The area was crawling with technicians doing just about everything you can imagine. The complex system of lights and the matrix of wiring particularly are impressive to those new to theater. But, funnily enough, people were most caught up by the ironing board.

“What’s an ironing board doing here?” several asked. Of course, it’s off to the side backstage, ready to press out last-minute wrinkles so that crease lines won’t multiply under the lights. But you’d have thought we’d stumbled upon a giraffe. People actually were taking pictures of the ironing board, partly because it was fun, of course. But in reality, the ironing board was causing us to think more deeply about the complex logistics of any performance—in this case, not only the dedicated personnel who sew the costumes, but those who press collars, straighten shoulder pads, and readjust the Velcro seams.

The back-action tells the full story—the one we cannot see when we just stumble into the audience. It opens up our understanding and feeds our appreciation of what we, humans, most ardently try to achieve: the pursuit of Beauty.

So at this season, when so much activity goes on around us, let’s make an extra effort to appreciate (and teach our children to honor) the hidden, painstaking steps that make Beauty possible. From the kid sweeping the orchestra pit to the aged seamstress in the cramped costume room. From the pumpkin-grower, to the turkey farmer, to the workers wading in the cranberry bogs. From the child who hauls the sweet potatoes in from the car to the adult who gives up sleep to prepare and set that gorgeous table. And think too about the small dramas we sometimes are privileged to witness, be it a humble ironing board awaiting a ruffled collar or a double flatbed truck bearing a glorious Christmas tree. For these, too, are doing their part in the service of Beauty.