We said “Goodbye” to our “rental” Christmas tree. Hubby referred to our beloved tree in this not-so-endearing term, as I undressed it in my yearly ritual of slowly and carefully unlooping the delicate ornaments from its brittle branches, shedding hundreds of tiny needles upon my floor. We had stopped watering it about a week ago, and since we hadn’t had its lights on (due to a slight overload in amperage that finally melted enough of the extension cord’s plug on New Year’s Eve), we felt secure in our belief that no real fire hazard would come of our delay in taking it down.
Then, off to the truck for its deposit at the Farmers’ Market, where we first “rented”, um, bought it. I always hate seeing the tree like that.
I Miss You, Already!
Kaukab always had a fake Christmas tree. No needles to sweep up. No daily watering to be done. No fuss; no muss. Me? I’m not into fake. I couldn’t wait to have real ones when I had a home of my own. Sometimes, I’ve been tempted to surrender to the fake ones. Especially, since so many these days look remarkably non-fakey. Until the Christmas tree lots start filling up, and then I’m lulled by their real-ness. There’s no faking a real tree. Not the smell. Not the feel. Not the mess. It just wouldn’t be a real Christmas without one. Even if I have to say “goodbye” to each of them.
Though, one thing that comforts me is knowing that our tree, among the many deposited at the Market, will be used to create fish homes in the WV ponds, rivers, and lakes. Yep, we West Virginians take our recycling real serious-like.
‘Course, Kaukab just puts hers back in the box.