Three years ago, my husband and I decided that we should take advantage of the abundant crop of Eastern Red Cedar trees in our woods for our Christmas tree. Eastern Red Cedar trees are considered an invasive nuisance because they steal water from other plants and they grow quickly on cleared land. The Nature Conservancy has sounded the alert: if something isn't done soon, red cedars will cover more than one-third of Oklahoma's landscape. We know that because of the number of tiny red cedars we see in the woods and because of the giant trees in an area we call the "cedar meadow" in a ravine behind our house.
Nonetheless, both of us like the pesky tree, enough that when we built our house, we cut a hole in our west deck so that a red cedar can grow through it. That tree was our first Christmas tree in our new house. David put lights on it and we put our gifts next to the glass wall that separates the inside from the outside. We had a live tree and a great first Christmas-in-the-house memory.
After that first Christmas, we reverted to our practice of buying a tree from a Christmas tree lot. Neither of us is a fan of artificial Christmas trees, no matter how real they look. We'd stop in Tulsa, walk around the lot and find a tree that we thought would look perfect in our house. The high school student working in the lot would give the trunk a fresh cut, wrap the tree and stow it in our car. We'd drive 30 miles home, put it up and decorate it.
The tree stood at the west end of our living room for a month, lights glowing, reflecting off my mother-in-law's antique ornaments, the ornaments from our first Christmases together and the collection given to us over the years from friends. I loved standing outside and seeing it through the glass on a dark night.
But three years ago, we decided to cut our own tree. One November day, we set off to the woods to find a Christmas tree. We found a very tall one. We put it next to the spiral staircase in our game room. I had to stand on the steps to decorate the top and I loved it. For the first time ever, I could get our entire collection of Christmas ornaments on our tree--ornaments from our families, our friends, my students and ornaments that just seem to appear in the collection. It was a glorious tree. I spent hours admiring it.
When we started searching for our tree last year, I knew exactly what I wanted--another giant tree. I was overruled by the Man with the Axe. Too big and messy, he said. So, shades of my childhood (See Bossy Betty, Dec. 24), we ended up with a tree small enough to put on our pool table. We decorated it with maybe 10% of our ornament collection--pretty, but I didn't like it much. I thought of it as an old people's tree--the kind of tree people get when their kids and grandkids are grown and no longer come home for the holidays, but they feel morally obligated to put up a tree. Somehow a small tree sitting on our pool table in the game room didn't inspire the Christmas spirit.
The Christmas Spirit seemed particularly important to us this year, perhaps because of a Scrooge-like pronouncement from a family member: no Christmas presents, no Christmas cooking, maybe not even a Christmas tree at their house.
When we started searching for our tree last year, I knew exactly what I wanted--another giant tree. I was overruled by the Man with the Axe. Too big and messy, he said. So, shades of my childhood (See Bossy Betty, Dec. 24), we ended up with a tree small enough to put on our pool table. We decorated it with maybe 10% of our ornament collection--pretty, but I didn't like it much. I thought of it as an old people's tree--the kind of tree people get when their kids and grandkids are grown and no longer come home for the holidays, but they feel morally obligated to put up a tree. Somehow a small tree sitting on our pool table in the game room didn't inspire the Christmas spirit.
The Christmas Spirit seemed particularly important to us this year, perhaps because of a Scrooge-like pronouncement from a family member: no Christmas presents, no Christmas cooking, maybe not even a Christmas tree at their house.
The Friday after Thanksgiving we headed into the woods to find our tree. We trotted, pulled by our two Beagles who love the woods, towards the back of the property, checking out cedar trees. We walked around each candidate, checking for shape and height, picturing it in the living room, not the game room, covered with lights, ornaments and tinsel. Near a rock outcropping, we discovered a grove of three perfect trees. We chose one, leaving the other two for Christmases 2011 and 2012, and dragged it back to the house.
The tree stood at the west end of our living room for a month, lights glowing, reflecting off my mother-in-law's antique ornaments, the ornaments from our first Christmases together and the collection given to us over the years from friends. I loved standing outside and seeing it through the glass on a dark night.
I know that the Christmas spirit doesn't reside in trees or gifts or cooking. I know that Christmas is a symbol for hope in the darkest time of the year, an affirmation of the belief that life will return. I know that Christmas is in our hearts and the love and warmth we find with friends and family this time of year.
And I know that our third home-cut tree--the most perfect tree so far--symbolizes all of that.
Happy New Year!
What a sweet post (and not just because I am mentioned in it!) What a wonderful symbol, not only of Christmas, but of the spirit that lives within your heart.
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