My mother was a neat and tidy woman. When I was very small, we had a real tree at Christmas, but when artificial trees became widely available, this less messy approach to the tradition suited Mom to a tee. The first tree I really remember well was an early version of the artificial tree. It had straight clothes hanger-wire branches wrapped with silver tinsel. The branches fitted into a broomstick trunk. The whole thing could be disassembled and packed into a box at the end of the season. In retrospect, I would have to say it had a rather Charlie Brown appeal. We were all quite pleased with the shiny silver tree, but it didn’t stand up well to multiple years of assembly, and as artificial trees became more realistic, we moved on to better imitations of the real thing. I don’t recall being distressed by our tree-in-a-box, not at all. Nonetheless, when Railguy and I started to decorate our own tree, we bought the real thing.
In all the years since our first Christmas together, we’ve always enjoyed a real tree. We used to go out as a family to choose the perfect tree when the kids lived at home. Now our three daughters each have their own Christmas tree, so Railguy and I make the tree-choosing outing on our own. Since moving to Willow House, we have gone to a local cut-your-own farm. We picked out this year’s tree a week ago on Saturday. It was a mild day, and many families were taking advantage of the pleasant weather. The parking lot was full and we had to park out on the road.
The tree farm offers wagon rides out to the cut-your-own field. Since we no longer have youngsters to enjoy the day with, Railguy and I are content to leave the ride to the many family groups and just chose a ready-cut tree. However, I took time to admire the two calm giants who were waiting patiently for the wagon to fill up and posing for their photograph with many little kids. It was fun to see the kids, so excited about the hay ride, the tree, the hot chocolate on offer.
Our choice was quickly made and before long we were back at home. The next day, we got our tree up and decorated and every morning I admire its pretty form, soft branches, bright decorations. A strange tradition, really, bringing a tree indoors, but also a little magical.
Willow House Chronicles 
Reading your posts is always a pleasure. The simplicity makes the writing even more poignant.
I loved your closing line: “A strange tradition, really, bringing a tree indoors, but also a little magical.”
A nice narrow tree this year, fits in that corner well. I love the smell of real trees, which would be hard to emulate in an artificial one.
It’s a beautiful tree. I don’t dare have any kind of tree any more, with Rachael the Wild around. She’d be up a tree in nothing flat. But, if I were to have one, it would be real, just like yours.
Nice decorating job. The ornaments really stand out with the unobtrusive lights.
I wonder what it must have been like to light real candles on the Christmas tree. Besides a fire hazard and a waxy mess, I mean.
How nice that you and Railguy have continued the tradition of going to the tree farm and mingling with all the customer joy of getting a real tree. The horses were beautifully outfitted in their finery. It seemed like a perfect day for everyone. — barbara
What a nice compliment, thank you Jim. It’s nice to have you visit!
Yes, it fits in the corner nicely, Seab. You’ll be seeing it soon for yourself.
Hee, all our cats our older and too distinguished for tree-climbing now, Louise. But back in his youth, Tonka brought down more than one tree!
Candles must have been beautiful, Lb, but what a hazard. The lights show up better at night, of course, than in this photo. I’ve never been much for tinsel. Sometimes we have a garland.
Barbara, don’t you like the horse brasses featured on the harness on the horses’ brows? Collecting horse brasses was ‘in’ with city folk for a while. It’s nice to see them being used as intended.
What a beautiful full tree! I can almost smell the fresh scent from here…
When I was younger, we always drove out to a piece of crown land to the west of Saint John, and wandered around through the woods and snowy fields until we found something suitable. I can tell you that, in the wild, the best Christmas trees always seem to be the top third of very tall trees! Nevertheless, we did our best, and I grew to love our parade of trees (we cut one for indoors and one for outdoors) as we stood in the driveway and twirled them for my mother, who scrutinized our choices from the living room window. Our trees were not symmetrical or bushy, and they often had imperfections hidden on the wall side, but they were ours, and they certainly were fresh!
What a nice memory, Eyegillian. Thanks for sharing it so vividly. I like the picture of your mom looking out the window at her family.