Growing up, we always had a “real” Christmas tree, until after all the kids were moved out, and mom finally got her way with a “fake” tree. Now, with my own family, we always get a real tree. One year we even had a “Charlie Brown’ tree that we hauled home from the Ocala National Forest. It was a scrawny thing, but it was beautiful in that we’d tromped through the forest, over patches of crusted snow, to select, cut down and haul home our very own tree.
Each year, the tree buying exercise made me weary. My husband and kids had to look at every tree in every tent and then on to Home Depot and Target. I am particularly fond of the Frasier firs, with the short needles - they make a fuller tree. But other than that, a tree is a tree. So some years, I tried to get out of going tree shopping, but my husband would guilt me out. The first couple of Christmases after divorce, my daughters would go with me for the tree, and I’d basically stand there with the credit card and nod approval at whatever they chose.
Yesterday, Sarah was at doggie beach with her new pup, and Lauren was …sleeping. (When Lauren’s not studying or hanging with the boy, she’s sleeping.) So Gracie and I went for the tree. Earlier I had seen a Rotary Club tent set up selling trees, and decided to give them my business. They had a large inventory of trees, most all were still wrapped. I found the 6-7 foot Frasier firs, and stood wondering “what the heck do I do now.” A Rotarian came up and offered to help. I told him what I wanted, and he offered to unwrap any tree I wanted to see. I pointed to one, he unwrapped it and held it up. “All I care about is a straight trunk” I said, as he spun the tree for me to see all sides. “It’s beautiful” I said, “I’ll take it.”
I never did understand all the fuss everyone makes over picking “the perfect” Christmas tree. This tree is beautiful, a nice straight trunk, and full healthy branches. Just wait ‘til it gets its bling on!