It’s that time of year when we decide whether we’re putting up a fresh tree or the artificial one that rests in the basement from Christmas to Christmas. Actually, we have two artificial trees in the basement. Remember the old bottle brush version? Yep. We’ve got that one, too. I don’t exactly know what to do with it. It isn’t biodegradable. About three years ago, we invested in another artificial tree that looks natural. It’s lovely. Only five feet. I know. That’s pretty vertically challenged for a tree, but we wanted to be able to put it on a lovely old, round oak coffee table that stands about two feet high. This gave us just enough room to add a beautiful topper. Why did we want it on a table, you ask? Well, we had this slumberous cat who spent the month of December like a wanton stretched out beneath the tree using gaily wrapped packages for body pillows and ribbons for….sport. The table tree allowed us to give gifts that didn’t look like something that fell into the category of only a mother could love and gave an old-fashioned look and feel to our tree.
The trouble with an artificial tree is that it doesn’t smell. As in, yummy. So, every other Christmas I hanker for a natural tree. This is the other year. We’re going out this weekend. I have my sniffer engaged. My sweetie is girding-up to compose himself in patience. It’s going to go down like this.
We’ll get to the tree lot and I’ll be bouncing up and down on my boot-shod feet, belting out a little Jingle Bells and Dashing Through the Snow. This is cause for alarm for anyone within earshot. The hat and mittens are red. Green & red lightbulb earrings are dangling from my ears. I’m such a kid! Twice, in the very early stage of our marriage, we planned the cut-your-own-tree adventure. And twice, my sweetie was called away on emergencies. I lost interest in this experience early on. It lacked brawn and romance. What can I say?
Back to bouncing and belting. We arrive at a lot with nothing but green in sight. I throw out my arms and breathe-in a big whiff of Christmas. Oh yeah. “Okay,” I say. “Let’s find a tree. What do you like?” And, so it begins. My knight, while surreptitiously doing an eye-roll thingie, strolls leisurely down Row A and grabs the first tree he sees that looks like the right size, flashes a smile and says, “How about this beauty? Now, that’s a tree.”
“No way. Too short,” I say. Meanwhile, I look more like the Energizer Bunny in a Santa suit galloping through row upon row of trees, hunkering down at this one and that one, squeezing into the back, and wiggling out with my best asset leading saying, “Honey, can you (tug) get this (yank) for me? I think this is the one.” He calmly wrenches it out, brushes the needles off my face and holds it up for my inspection. “Nope. That’s not it.” We go through the lot of trees with him grumbling mumbling to himself about Starbucks and a double shot and me — “Really, that one?” …… “Too many gaps.” …… “Too short.” …… “What? Pine?” …… “Too short.” …… “Wouldn’t you like a Spruce? I love Spruce.” And so it goes, until we find the perfect, bushy lady that smells just right.
So, what’s your Christmas tree experience? Do you go for that cut-your-own adventure? Visit your city lot? Check-out your local Boy Scout troop fund-raiser? Enjoy an outdoor living tree? Elen wants to know.