Tree Wars: Real versus Fake
Who knew people would get so upset over this particular topic? Lots of people feel very strongly.
Here’s my take:
I grew up with a real tree. And Pops liked them flocked. He’d drag out the vacuum cleaner and do his magic. It was exciting to watch the tree transform from green to make it resemble a snow-laden one. Once inside and set up, the ornaments really popped.
As a single gal, my roommate and I decided to try something novel: go to a tree farm and chop down one. This is quite a challenge, especially for me as I like fat ones and the farmers tended to make them more skinny looking. A lot of hunting for the perfect tree (and after marrying Handsome, a lot of arguments ensued. LOL)
Handsome and I continued to trek to the farm until my boys were sick of going. Not even roasting hotdogs and making s’mores could entice them. So Handsome and I returned to our roots and searched for our tree at a lot. This is hard to do as the trees can get old. The stores have to be hit at the perfect time.
I’ve learned to cut off the end and wash them off with a hose to get rid of the dirt and pollen. (Really does help!)
But switch to an artificial one? No, not going there yet.
So where is all this going, Vicki?
LOL. I love writing holiday stories and last year, the idea to write about Christmas trees hit me. The result is “Twinkle Lights.”
Here’s a little tiny tease:
“I don’t believe it.” Hands on hips, I stood in front of the large, white tent. No happy shoppers bustled in and out. No All I Want For Christmas is You blasting from a boom box. No holiday cheer at all.
Instead, I found under the same ol’ Axel’s Christmas Trees neon sign, which wasn’t flashing, a notice, which looked to be hastily printed and stuck on the tent flap with gray duct tape: Closed. Heart attack. And as an afterthought: Pray.
I shook my head, saying to the nippy wind whipping my hair, “Poor Axel. This is horrible. Where will the funds for the Sommerville Hospital come from?”
My stomach kinked into a hard knot as I hugged my tote to my waist. I’d been buying my Christmas tree here since…forever. Definitely since I was a blossoming idea in my parents’ mind. Mom and Dad brought my brother and me to Axel’s the first Saturday in December every year for the family tree. Who could forget the ensuing arguments over the perfect one—Mom usually won—and the joy of trimming it.
All grown up, I continued the tradition. Axel had the most beautiful trees. The stand benefited the hospital; this year, the children’s cancer wing where his grandson had undergone treatment for leukemia. He always-always-always stashed aside a seven-foot Fraser fir for me. Nothing spelled Christmas better than a fresh, North Carolina Fraser fir.
Now what do I do? Where do I go? Should I call Axel’s son and see if he needs anything?
Many Happy Holidays under your Christmas tree!
“Twinkle Lights” is available now at: https://museituppublishing.com