O Tannenbaum

Since it's the first full week of December and the Texas weather has finally (at least temporarily) taken a turn toward "winter," I decided it was about time to put up my Christmas tree. My fake, synthetic, flame-retardant Christmas tree. Admitting that I own a plastic tree feels like some sort of betrayal of my long-standing Christmas traditions. When I was young, my grandparents grew a little grove of pine trees on their property, and every year they'd sell trees for Christmas. So from the very beginning of my life, the tradition was clear -- when it's Christmas, you drive to a place with rows of sappy fir trees, and choose the one that will be outfitted in holiday finery in your home that year.

As I got older, the tradition continued. When I lived in New Jersey, our Christmas tree was purchased from a place called St. Paul's Abbey. There were acres and acres of fir trees, presumably watered and fertilized and cared for by the monks and nuns of the abbey. To be honest, I never saw any monks or nuns out there -- I never saw anyone out there with the trees. But I always imagined the monks, or the nuns (or whoever it was that lived at the abbey) crowding around a windowpane at Christmastime, watching the hordes of families who'd come to collect their very own Christmas tree. The monks and nuns would be so proud to see their trees being shipped off to warm houses, and they'd think about how beautiful the trees would look when they were covered in tiny lights and sparkling tinsel. Then they probably all clasped hands and sang a few rounds of "O Tannenbaum" before heading to their sparse bedrooms for quiet reflection. (Okay, so I really have no idea how the monks and nuns fit into the Christmas tree equation at St. Paul's Abbey...)

Even the first year I was out on my own, living in an Austin apartment with a roommate named Lori, I had a real tree for Christmas. It was mostly Lori's idea, as she had that kind of Texas A&M, high blond ponytail, "c'mon y'all it's Christmas it's gonna be GREAT!" mentality. So together, we purchased a tree that looked nice in the parking lot of Home Depot (no Christmas tree abbeys in Austin...) -- but when we got it home, we realized it took up the entire breakfast nook in the apartment. Good thing we didn't have a table. Another thing we didn't have -- a decent supply of ornaments. Lori had a few strings of white lights, and between the two of us, we were able to scrounge up ten or twelve piddly little decorations for the tree. And when everything was placed on our gigantic breakfast nook monstrosity, it looked profoundly sad. The abundant needles swallowed every one of our ornaments, and the lights only covered half the tree. Every time I pushed aside the branches to get to the kitchen, I'd wish for a tree like the ones I'd had as a kid. And in some kind of bizarre defiance of the oddity of our tree, Lori and I left it standing in the breakfast nook until well past the holidays -- the words "fire hazard" were an understatement...

After years of living in Texas, I've realized that it's very difficult to find a decent real tree for Christmas. We don't have many pine groves in Austin, so every year when Christmas rolls around, candycane-striped tents pop up on the side of the highway advertising "fresh" trees. What I think, however, is that these trees were fresh -- they were fresh when they were first cut down somewhere in Michigan. But by the time they make the journey to a home in Austin, they've already begun drying out and dropping needles like snowflakes. So it was with great sorrow two years ago that I finally conceeded to Rick's suggestion of a fake tree. And I have to admit it's not a horrible tree -- a little too symetrical, perhaps... and the plastic needles are slippery and not as pliable as real fir tree needles, so hanging ornaments isn't always a simple process. But overall, as long as I spray the living room with pine-scented air freshner every day, it's hard to tell the difference. And this year, I decided to be extra-creative and make my own ornaments for my plastic tree. I bought clay, rolled it flat, cut out shapes with cookie cutters, painted them, and hung them with ribbon. And if I do say so myself, my homemade ornaments turned out quite dandy. (Aside to Nick -- are you reading this? Because otherwise, I just used the word "dandy" for no reason... :))

I suppose some people would say that chopping down a tree for the sole purpose of dragging it home and decorating it isn't exactly environmentally sensitive. So at least I can be secure in the knowledge that one less tree will be chopped down this year. Take heart, little evergreen, for this year I shall not disturb your peaceful growth.

But I can't make any promises about next year... :)