Christmas tree - real or artificial?

There is no doubt that real trees are wonderful, but I am also considering that the environment can get really affected because large amounts of trees get cut every year and this is pretty bad. For several years now I am always buying an artificial Christmas tree because of that and plus, they are more easy to handle.
There is no doubt that real trees are wonderful, but I am also considering that the environment can get really affected because large amounts of trees get cut every year and this is pretty bad. For several years now I am always buying an Artificial Christmas tree because of that and plus, they are more easy to handle.

I don't have family obligations to pressure me into doing either. Last year I bought a live

rosemary plant shaped like a Christmas tree. As for the environmental concerns, I think an artificial tree presents more. Christmas trees are grown on farms like wheat or corn. They can be regrown, so I'd go with the real tree.

Operdoc-

I hadn't even thought of the environmental concerns, but you're right - I can't imagine that anything on artificial trees are biodegradable, which means they will probably just sit in a landfill for eternity.

And wow - I never thought this blog would see the light of day again.

Nothing like talking about Christmas trees on Memorial Day weekend... I like a live tree for many reasons; family tradition and memories I have carried with me from my growing up years in PA, along with Christmases I spent in OR, WA, VT, and now FL. I, too, having been raised in PA tradition, waited until 2 or 3 days before the big day before setting out to discover the Charlie Browns were the only ones left to choose from

The year I decided to cut down my own tree on a bona fide Christmas tree farm near Ocala, was quite memorable. First, I parked my little Ford Ranger by the office where people were industriously wrapping freshly cut trees in netting to keep them more easily handle-able on the tops of peoples' cars and mini-vans. I was greeted cheerily, handed a small saw and a measuring stick and off I went in search of the perfect Christmas tree.

After tramping up and down rows and rows of potential prospects, I'd see one that looked just right, but soon discovered that eye-balling the height was exactly why I was automatically handed a measuring device upon my entry to the farm. A tree I thought was about 6' tall turned out to be more like 8! Such a tree in my little home would have made the Griswold Family Christmas tree look like a saplng.

Finally, I found a nicely shaped tree, that, according to my measuring stick, was a far more do-able five-foot speciman. So, I began the arduous process of cutting down my tree with what amounted to using heavy-duty dental floss. I was building up quite a sweat, and my back was killing me, so I decided to get closer to my work, and plopped my butt down on the ground. The one thing you don't have to worry about when cutting down a tree in PA is the chance of parking one's butt directly on top of a fire ant mound. I'm sure my sudden burst of expletives, accompanied by a herky-jerky dance with a saw in my hand was a bit alarming to the family a few rows over.

When the crisis was resolved, I resumed my activity from the opposite side of the tree, away from that pesky fire ant mound. As the sweat poured down my face I wondered if it might qualify as an aerobic sport. What seemed like hours later, and true enough it may have been, as it was getting a bit difficult to see by the time I finally had my tree lying horizonal on the ground. Looking around, I realized I was now completely alone. The other family I no doubt had frightened off, because they were nowhere to be found. Indeed, as I held my tree by the trunk, and began dragging it behind me like some vindicated cave dweller, I realized that the only things I could see were trees! I had absolutely NO clue whatsoever in which direction the parking lot was where I'd left my little Ranger. I strained to listen for any sort of sounds which might give me some kind of clue as to which direction I should head. As I walked past rows of trees, I imagined them all laughing at me ... "serves her right, cutting one of us down!" Thoughts to which I would try to justify by thinking that this was a Christmas Tree Farm. These trees were raised for the very purpose of being chosen for one's home, to be lovingly and beautifully decorated and then enjoyed. And, then I realized how utterly ridic it was to try and justify my cutting down a tree to enjoy for my holiday to trees. I tried not to panic, as my mind then raced with images of myself lost on a Christmas tree farm. My little truck would be the only vehicle left in the lot and the owners would be wondering what happened to me. I envisaged search parties with flashlights and bloodhounds... the lyrics to some song from the 60s was playing like a broken record... "and she never returned, and she never returned, and her fate is still unknown..."

And, then, I saw the parking area! And my little truck, waiting patiently for me. I tried to act nonchalant as if walking through acres and acres of trees dragging mine behind me was something I did intentionally as part of the experience.

Well, it was no doubt an experience, whichever way I looked at it. And, I got the tree safely home, went through various gyrations getting the trunk to fit into the stand, and it took me an entire evening to get it all set up and decorated, but it did look and smell beautiful. I poured myself a nice eggnog laced with brandy, sprinkled a bit of nutmeg on the top, and settled into my chair to watch "It's A Wonderful Life" by the warm, comforting and cheery glow of the white lights I'd put on the tree.

As I've done every year since I was a child, I just sit and look at the tree. Each ornament carries with it a specific memory. Some of the glass balls on the trees I decorate now are older than I am. They are the ones my mother used to put on the trees in my growing up years. For me, Christmas is not about how many presents I get, or how many I give, even. It is about the love of family, friends, and pets. It is about family tradition. It is about my special tree, representing the light of Christ into the darkest areas of my life's memories, as well as illuminating my life's joys.

I am always sad to put the tree out to the curb sometime around Epiphany. But, it has served its purpose; the purpose for which it was meant. And, I take a bit of comfort in the fact that Christmas trees serve as a way to prevent beach erosion. It's sort of like giving back a bit of what was taken away with the cutting down.

In any case, it was nice stumbling upon this blog tonite, for it's allowed my mind to wander to some happy times. Now, I've got to try and find it and bring it back!

deep peace, miscmood

Oh man........I am still cracking up over your tale!!!!   Dang....that was GREAT!!!!   I too thought it was funny reading about Christmas and here it is 100 degrees!!!  Thanks!!!