It's mainly about the mess. The last time we had a tree it sat by the side of our house in Durham until June, blocking the drain with its needles (those that hadn't been left scattered around the house), a six-foot skeletal twig until we...actually I can't remember what we did with it. Maybe it's still there; apologies to the people we sold the house to.
On moving to California I decided to set the example. An artificial tree was the way to go, one bought from a charity shop, no less, and so I triumphantly returned home with one that was 50% off in Salvation Army. It was 7.5ft tall, but on unboxing was missing the top 1.5ft. Who does that? Luckily I found a much better one the next year, although Hannah continued to complain about the lack of smell (pine air freshener?)
Now, after weeks of grinding me down in charming Chinese-water-torture fashion, Hannah has a real tree. "I'll sort it all out," she said, and while it would have been fun to watch a six-and-a-half-month pregnant woman schlep a tree around I thought I should help. We travelled to three different tree places. "I can't believe these are so expensive! I thought this was a good idea and now I think it's stupid," Hannah fumed, two hours later, in something not dissimilar to a tantrum.
Anyway, a week later we finally have a tree, from 'Trees 4 Less' in an abandoned lot in Pleasant Hill, obviously a front for something far more sinister. We tied it to the top of a borrowed car in a manner that made the tree seller ask: "You're not planning to go on the freeway, are you?" Ha! We got home in one piece and the whole flat now smells of pine air freshener. But if I find one needle left in this place after the tree has gone (roadside recycling collection on 7th Jan) then we are NEVER having a real tree again. And what embodies the Christmas spirit more than another meaningless family ultimatum?
A fine selection. Which forest did you steal them from?
It's all about the smell, Hannah says. The smell of a planet dying!
Misusing Shauli and Anat's car.
It's the happy, expectant faces of the innocent that makes Christmas worthwhile.
After you're done with that you'd better be making my mince pies.
The finished article. Looks...ok.
My first tree from all those years ago. I can't tell the difference.
