December 6, 2009

Yes, our tree is real, but not really...

Every year, there are folks who ask me, "Do you have a real Christmas tree?" Here's an article I wrote years and years ago about why our real tree is really artificial...

It was a chilly December evening when we decided it was time to buy a pine tree for our Christmas tree stand. A tall, tubby tree with tons of symmetrical branches was what we really, really wanted. So off we went to the Home Depot—a no-nonsense, home improvement store where Christmas trees of every shape, size, and species are lined up in rows like soldiers in green fatigues waiting for daily roll call. And each and every one of them seemed to beg us as we strolled by to, “Get me outta here!” And even though we felt “sorry” for the trees we didn’t pick, we were happy with the one we did—it was tall and tubby with a perfect, symmetrical shape and long, graceful branches. Abbey fell in love with it, big brother bought it, and soon it was roped across the top of our car, on its was to being “planted” in front of the picture window of living room. Oh, what a happy tree it was—for no one had noticed that beneath those green, graceful branches lay its only flaw—the most crooked trunk ever found on any Christmas tree at any time during the entire course of Christmastime history. Our ignorance was bliss while it lasted.
We spent an entire evening embellishing our Christmas tree with trinkets large and small. The white lights that cascaded in spiral fashion down its length illuminated the entire upper floor of our split-level home. This tree was simply delightful! It was absolutely divine! It was hopelessly defective... At one o’clock in the morning, our pine tree became exhausted from standing on its crooked “leg” and crashed onto our living room sofa. My husband and I, tired as we were, knew we could not leave our Christmas tree sprawled out on the couch like that! So we very carefully stood it upright in its stand and filled the reservoir with water. We left the fallen ornaments on the sofa, floor, and end tables to be hung again the following morning and went back to bed.
Then, at three-thirty a.m., the pine tree’s “leg” gave out again—this time it fell flat on the floor. Our family formed a circle around our fallen Christmas tree, staring at it with our heads bowed low—no one speaking a word. Our little white dog carefully examined it with his nose while the jingle bells attached to his collar made the only sound in the room. That night we made the decision to get a different kind of tree the next year—one that wouldn’t collapse onto our sofa or fall flat on our living room floor—one that wouldn't shed needles. And we've had our real artificial tree ever since and I've never looked back...

2 comments:

Maritza said...

Cute post Mary, now I know to ck the trunk of the really real tree we'll be purchasing tomorrow. Thanks for the heads up.

xoxo
Maritza

Maggie Ann said...

What a good reason! And a sweet post, you expressed it all so well.