For the
sake of convenience, economy, and frugality, my husband and I decided early on
in our relationship to invest in a phony, reusable Christmas tree, which we felt
would look majestic enough from a distance, all blanketed with crystal
ornaments, strung with rainbow colored lights flashing throughout, and surrounded
by brightly wrapped packages heaped beneath.
But we gave
up a lot by choosing not to bring a living Christmas tree into our house. First, there’s the charming ritual of
acquiring a living tree—better if you go trouncing into the woods to chop the
perfect one down, but still a heart-warming experience to go hunting through
the abundant selections at a street-side tree lot of a nippy, frosty evening.
Then comes
the important project of situating the tree into its stand, with a critical eye
out for the perfect front and correct angle. The aroma of a freshly cut tree never fails to spark
memories of carefree childhood anticipation of a lovely holiday filled with
golden comfort and gay family gatherings.
After tree
placement, it’s time to pull out all the ornaments, each with its own memory or
story. Decorating living Christmas
tree branches somehow feels like lovingly dressing a kindred spirit, a welcomed
friend who manages to brighten a corner of the house for many weeks. After the final glass bauble is in
place, there’s the daily ritual of keeping the tree hydrated, but eventually the
needles begin dropping, a sad indication that Christmastime will soon be over
and the long, dark winter must settle in.
Finally,
time comes to defrock the tree.
Unceremoniously, it’s bagged in black plastic and tossed out into the
alley behind the house where it molders like an abandoned friend until the
trash men haul it away to the landfill.
Looking at
this with hindsight, having an artificial tree becomes less joyous but
ultimately less painful, although today, in an age of sustainable recycling, a
spent Christmas tree can be taken to the wood chipper in the park, chopped into
a manageable heap, bagged, brought home, and lovingly scattered about in the
spring—heartfelt mulch for the garden.
