When I lived with my parents, we had an artificial tree. It wasn't a great plastic tree, but it was all I knew. Then, when I got married, we made the leap to real trees. We didn't go so far as to trudge into the woods and cut one down. Our Christmas Tree Hunting involved little more than, a coupla weeks before The Day, driving to the Zellers parking lot, quickly looking at a couple, picking one out and buying it.
The first number of years, I really liked the concept of the Real Tree. Tying it to the top of the car; family driving home slowly; sawing off the bottom of the trunk; lugging it in the house; sweeping up the needles; letting it settle and acclimate for a day or so; sweeping up the needles; putting lights on; sweeping up needles; watering; decorating; watering; sweeping; watering; etcetera etcetera...
I think it was last year, the tradition of 'getting the tree' began to wear on us. So, this year...today in fact...we made the decision to get a fake tree. It was like we were letting Christmas down. Somehow it seems like putting up a plastic tree is another nail in the coffin of the tradition of Christmas.
We got a tree that has the lights already built into it. All white lights. It's a nice 7.5 foot plastic pine tree that actually looks pretty darn good.
There's no smell of pine (that can be, I assume, managed with potpourri), and that's too bad. But there's no needles on the floor, no watering.
Christmas, I hope we haven't let you down.