Thursday, November 29, 2012
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
When I was a very little girl, we always had a real Christmas tree, usually a Douglas fir, because Mom liked the spaces between the boughs. She may have liked the spaces but she HATED the needles.
When I was around 8 or 9, my parents bought an artificial tree, white flocked, with a color wheel which rotated and bathed the tree in red, blue, green, or orange light. On this wonderful tree, Mom hung all maroon bulbs. I don't know why.
Then all of us kids grew up and moved out. The years that we all came home for Christmas, Mom would break out the tree and we all made fun of it. Not very charitable and not very Christmassy but very, very easy to do. It was a terrible tree.
In 1975, Mom bought one of these trees. Vern's wife made it in pottery class. Actually, I'm pretty sure she bought the greenware and glazed it but she made it nonetheless. Vern was a guy who worked with my Dad and the first car I drove after Steve died was a 1960 Cadillac that Mom and Dad bought from Vern for me.
Anyway, this tree lived on top of Mom's TV from the day after Thanksgiving until New Year's Day and, no matter how much we harangued her, this was the tree ever after.
I think I have sort of compromised. I have an artificial tree, but is is a Scottish pine because I like the fullness. It is about 3 feet tall and it sits on a console table that I have because that way the dogs wouldn't knock it over. Looking at it tonight, I think that I may have combined all the trees of my childhood into one. Now all I need is a color wheel!