JULIA
SPENCER-FLEMING: Okay, it’s a fake question. I’ve always had a tree, even back
when Ross and I were living together in DC (much to my parents’ chagrin) and we
scavenged one from a lot near his law school that had them for suspiciously low
prices.
In fact, a Christmas tree saved my marriage! About a decade in, Ross and I were having some real problems. Like, talk to lawyers problems. A couple weeks before Christmas that year, we went out to buy a fresh tree with our kids, then five and four. As we got home and began untying the tree from the top of the car, it started to snow, and the children were dancing around with excitement.
The magic of the
moment didn’t heal all wounds – there was still three years of couples
counseling ahead – but we both realized we didn’t want to break up our little
family, and we acted on that. We made it until death did us part. That’s a pretty
big lift for a conifer.
So yes, I want a tree. I love to see one in the bay window of the living room, loaded with decorations, which, since the kids have moved out, have been veering toward a color-coordinated, Instagram style (as opposed to the plethora of macaroni, jigsaw piece and egg carton ornaments that came home year after year from school.) And we’ve always, always gotten a real tree – let’s face it, when you live in the Pine Tree State, it’s kind of a given.
But here’s the rub. In the past, picking out the tree was a family affair. Then it dwindled to me and the girls, then to me and one daughter, and now the only help I have is Bud DesRocher, the guy at the Lions tree lot who trims the trunk and loads it on the car for me. When I get it home, my assistants consist of two Shih Tzus and an elderly cat (who, by the way, is the reason we stopped using tinsel fifteen years ago. I’ll leave the details to your imagination.)
Getting it off the
car roof isn’t too bad – I have a Honda Accord, thankfully, not a
fifteen-foot-tall SUV. I’ve got a barn coat and deerskin gloves, so I can even
hump it into the house. But have you ever tried to screw a real evergreen into
a tree holder all by yourself? Dear readers, it’s like trying to clap with one
hand. There are a limited number of tasks in this world that absolutely require
two people, and setting up a live tree is one of them.
Last year, my
beautiful balsam sat in a bucket on the front porch for almost three weeks
before Youngest came home and helped me install it in the living room. And no,
it didn’t look like a cool natural outdoor decoration – it looked like a drunk
had abandoned it between the tub of ice melt and my front door.
I’ve told nearly all my friends the time has come for me to bow to reality and buy an artificial tree that I can set up and take down solo. Have I done this yet? No, I have not. Will I spend the next five Christmases saying the same thing and still getting a real tree? Undoubtedly. Or maybe I can go all the way back to the German custom of putting up and decorating the tree on Christmas Eve. I bet the kids can get one real cheap on their way over here at 5pm on December 24th…
How about you, dear readers? Real, faux, or no tree?
Photos by JillWellington, Chance Agrella and Pexels, (Feerangestock.com)
