The Tree with the Story

We put our Christmas tree up today. The tree has a story. This is serendipitous for a blogger who does not have a story. When facing writer's block, it is good to encounter a chatty tree farmer with a sentimental streak. We were plowing through the forests of the Piedmont Triad Farmer's Market with hope in our hearts and Starbucks in our stomachs when amidst the most spectacular of North Carolina's fir trees, any one of which would have qualified for the White House or at least the lobby of Krispy Kreme, we found Our Tree. It was tall and skinny, my only requirement, and it was missing most of the branches on its backside, which is usually my sister's requirement, as she has spent her adult life seeking the perfect Charlie Brown tree. Me , however, well, I have spent my adult Christmases producing themed color -coordinated awe-
inspiring trees that florists would envy. Seriously. I have had flocked blue and silver trees, gold and white trees decked out in beads, bows and ribbons, and red and white trees dripping with pearls and poinsettias. Until last year. Last year my sister was visiting two weeks before the big day, and I told her I wanted a real tree, just a little one, but a real one for the corner of the living room. Oh yeah, I had the huge artificial tree in the den, bloated with 21st century spectacle, but I wanted one like we had in our childhood in the fifties. The tree with the mellow glow of red, green, gold and blue lights. The tree with no theme but Christmas, the tree with the glass balls, clip on birds, one old plastic Santa that rattled when shaken, like it was filled with rice. The tree that was covered with brittle silver foil icicles that sometimes broke into pieces when hung. The tree that filled me with wonder. I wanted just a pale recollection of that ideal tree, just a shade of the original. So off we went to the farmer's market and found a spindly little tree. We bought "retro" lights in Target, and glass balls in the drug store. We forgot the tree stand and had to run out again in the frigid December night to Home Depot. But in the end we had our old fashioned tree radiating a warm glow in the living room. Our mother had died suddenly a few days earlier. Somehow this little tree brought back the joy of our childhood, before the years of sadness and illness that preceded my mother's death. She LOVED Christmas. She always had. It had never mattered to her that we had little money or lived in a poor little house. She always invited any and all available to share our meal and our home. There was always food and company at Christmas.
So back to this year. I told Dennis I did not want to put up the fancy fake tree. If we had a tree at all, since we are going away for the holiday, I wanted a skinny "real" tree for the corner of the living room. So there we were, poking through the 90 dollar models , and there were hundreds of them, when I spied a skinny, misshapen, embarassed looking fir, like a girl in her underwear at the prom. That One, I cried. What IS Wrong With it??? But it was still tall, and had a good side, and I did not want to pay the expected 50 dollars for a Charlie Brown tree. So we were walking away. Let me tell you about that tree, said a young man approaching. That there is a natural tree, he said. Oh yes, it IS natural , I said, thinking that this must be the latest trend and that the price would be equally trendy. What to you mean, natural, asked Dennis. Well, sir, it ain't been trimmed up to the Christmas tree shape. As a matter of fact, a big ole tree fell on it last summer and sheared all the branches off the one side there. It was sposed to go in the pile for cutting up and making wreaths, but somehow it got baled with the good trees and here it is. I would like to see it go to a good home.
So how much? I asked, expecting to walk away. I really wasn't sure we needed a tree, going away for Christmas. 15 dollars, maam. 15 dollars?????Oh I want that tree. Can we get that tree? Course we can, honey, its got a good story, so we have to get it, said Dennis.
Now it is standing in the living room, radiating a mellow, multiolored glow, the bare backsided tree with the "good story." Ain't Christmas grand??