Growing up in Scotland, we always had an artificial tree – a
white one at that – which would stand majestically, decorated with tinsel and
fuchsia coloured baubles. We moved a lot
back then, and the tree came with us, like an anchor, helping us stay afloat
when everything else around us had changed.
I am not sure what happened to that tree. I suspect it got ditched when my parents
retired, and chose to spend their Christmas with us in Canada. But we’ve had our own escapades with trees –
more of the natural kind.
It was quite the family tradition, that my husband and the
girls would go off every year to pick the tree.
He was quite fussy which tried the patience of the youngsters who were
anxious to get home and get on with their own stuff. Decorating the tree was a family affair, with
handmade decorations that I’d made with the girls; baubles purchased with
special memories that we would hang each year.
At one point when the girls were grown and left home, we
gave in and purchased an artificial tree which was a beast to erect each year,
and caused numerous cuts and bruises as we wrestled with it. But when we bought
the farm, it was toast. You could hardly
live in the country, and bring out an artificial tree. It seemed an oxymoron.
No, that first year we got all romantic about it all and
decided we would cut down our own tree.
It seemed like a good idea at the time, but what we hadn’t thought
through was just how we were going to get it back to the farmhouse. We’d had a heavy snow that winter, so moving
it was no simple task, plus it was uphill and a fair distance away.
My daughter has photos of us, red-faced and out of breath as
we lugged the tree back on a tarpaulin, muttering under our breath – never
again. It certainly was a workout, but
once standing tall in our living room, it made the season special.
Then there was the year that my husband, in his infinite
wisdom, wanted a large, tall tree which we could accommodate in our new
extension. But decorating this brute of
a tree was an all-day affair, and when it was time to take it all down, we had
to chop it up, in order to get it out of the house.
Lately, we’ve become less picky about the tree. Winters past it’s been very cold and instead
of hanging around outside contemplating the merits of each tree, I’ve been
advocating for the one closest to the car, so we can get it, load it up and get
back into the warmth. Doesn’t always
work, but I’ve noticed as we age, that there’s less debate about the tree.
Now this year, the fun begins as we have a young puppy (six
months old) who is a climber, still likes to chew and is mischief on four
legs. We are still debating how we will
manage our friend, so we protect the tree, our treasured ornaments and the
parcels under the tree. It may end up
standing there naked, but likely not. We
will come up with something, baby gates and the like.
When you look back on your Christmas trees, what stories
come to mind for you? Our Christmas tree
has been very much part of our tradition and for me, as I look at the
ornaments, I am taken back to when the children were little, and in real awe of
what Santa would bring. It’s a family
time and no matter what type of tree you have, big or small, it is the people
gathered around it that are important, as well as memories of those who are no
longer with us.
