I was a bit hesitant to get a real tree this year. Besides the fire hazard and the shedding of needles, I was concerned about the tree's girth. I think it would be difficult to find in nature the sort of tree we needed to fill our space. I realised that my family has never been able to find a naturally growing tree that would accommodate any space we have occupied. Oh, the memories.
I grew up with live trees. Our excitement over going to pick out our tree would increase exponentially until we were frighteningly giddy with anticipation. My Mom did not join us on many of those excursions. In fact, I think she went once and decreed it was a time for Dad to bond with us. As the weather fairies always decided to bring true southern style winter in the form of miserably cold rain on the appointed tree picking day, I can see how bonding with the other parent would be a grand idea. I bet one nanosecond after that Defense Department issued lumbering giant of a station wagon left the premises, Mom was doing the happy dance in the kitchen. The rest of us continued on our woodland adventure wrapped in now slightly damp woollens smelling not unlike the forest creatures we hoped to glimpse.
The process was supposed to be simple and rather magical as families arriving at the Christmas tree farm would board wagons festooned with garlands of greenery and bows and taken out to choose the perfect tree. Each adult was issued a small band saw and a tag. You would cut your tree down, affix one part of the tag to said tree, and bring the matching piece to the "elves" who would then retrieve the tree and bag it. This final process was finished as the children were enjoying hot cocoa and Christmas carols. Sounds adorable, right?
By the time the merits of each tree were discussed at debated at length, I think my Dad would have gladly cut down anything we pointed to in order to stop the madness. And that little band saw was no match for a newly planted sapling, much less a full grown tree. We learnt my Dad sometimes used rather colourful adjectives when trying to cut down those trees. Dad had a lot of help too as we would encourage him and offer lots of instructions on how to make the process go smoother. I know he appreciated us so very much.
After the tree was bagged and paid for, and we had drunk just enough cocoa to need a potty break on the way back down the desolate highway home where no potties existed, we loaded our station wagon of Christmas cheer and headed back to show Mom our forest masterpiece. Understand it had been drizzling rain all day. In fact if the outside temps had been but a single degree warmer, that rain would have been snow. The tree was wet. We were wet and cold and had been asking for a potty for the last 12 miles. There aren't enough carols and cookies on the planet to make that particular misery any better. Dad was in no position to hear anything negative. And yet, while this glorious proud pine looked so majestic and straight in the forest, it leaned grotesquely to one side once cut. After an hour or so of wrestling said tree and calling it those pet names Dad came up with at the farm, we managed to get it inside. Luckily Dad was an engineer, so he figured out a way to use strings attached to the walls and ceilings to make the tree appear to stand upright.
The tree was beautiful. Dad did have to lop off about 4 feet of its height to make it actually fit inside the house, but we didn't notice - we had our tree! And in about 8 more hours, it would have lights on it. I think the lights were the last straw. I am not sure, but I think the year Dad had to individually replace each and every single solitary bulb on the tree to find THE one making the entire string useless was the year Daddy decreed he would rather have an artificial tree. And I am not entirely positive, but I believe one was procured rather quickly. Oh he lamented the loss of fresh pine amongst us at the holidays. He reminisced with us all about our many adventures picking out trees. But I know he was not at all sad to never, ever, have to go out cold and miserable in drizzly rain to cut down a tree that would require a civil engineering degree to erect. Did I mention the artificial tree was pre-lit as well?
We solved our current tree crisis by going cheap. Turns out, the expensive ones were too large for our space. The really inexpensive ones were sparser and skinnier. We have one that tucks in nicely against one window and still leaves room to navigate the space. It turns out we brought just enough of our ornaments from the home planet to make the tree looked loved. I love the smaller tree, although I do miss those majestic trees and the adventures from my childhood.
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