As I write this, I am getting ready to head out on a quick tour with Switchback. We head north to Michigan, which is Christmas tree farm country. For my family, the debate of purchasing a real tree versus an artificial tree has never been in doubt. We always look for a good Douglas fir. They tend to have small needles that stay on the branch, hold a hook and have branches strong enough for the biggest ornament.
However, we live in an age of “eco-anxiety” in which people are keenly aware that consumption of anything can result in the expansion of greenhouse gasses. With the recent COP conference taking place in Dubai, the world, especially the United States is slipping on its commitment to keeping the overall temperature of the world down. So, in times like these, the idea of real versus artificial tree becomes less of an issue of taste and more of one of eco-responsibility. A great article by CNN hashes out the pro’s and con’s of such a purchase.
It is odd to be alive in a world where even the purchase of a Christmas tree can be construed as an environmental and political act as well. Most artificial trees come from one place: China. These trees are, for the most part, cheaply made, but handy. They come with such things as lights already on them. They don’t drop needles, they do expel some gas from the plastic, but other than that, they can look convincingly real, are a predictable shape and if you have storage space, fairly easy to put away and forget once the season is over.
Real trees do not have such advantages. The biggest part of dealing with a live tree is figuring out how to light it. And light in such a way that one doesn’t break a bulb and thus reduce the whole string to a waste of time and money. I always try to find lights not made in China as I feel that any amount of money spent to aid and abet a government that is not “by the people and for the people” will eventually catch up with me or my progeny down the line (no pun intended). I truly believe that it is a sort of psychological warfare program on their part to have their lights, once on the tree, wink out. “Take that, you capitalist pig!” I can hear them laughing now.
I also have to think about the people who are growing these trees. Tree farmers are like corn farmers, except their crop takes about seven years to grow. During that time, the trees are eating carbon and storing it. These people aren’t getting rich, but they are doing us a favor by knowing that there are people who are able to grow trees and make a living by doing so. Some of these folks never get to see where their trees go, but most do, and usually to a local population. So, they also foster a sense of community and joy. Even the big box stores like our Homeless Depot have a feeling of joy when purchasing a live tree. The store employee who just learned that morning how to handle an electric chainsaw, nervously clipping branches and knocking an inch off the stump or three as his hands are numb from the cold. The look of relief on their face as they manage to get one more tree to a family, with tree, family and themselves unscathed.
There's a real ritual in every step of getting a live tree from growing it, cutting it down, bringing it home, putting it up, decorating it, taking it down and bringing it to the park to get turned into mulch. Rituals like all rituals take time and our world doesn’t have a lot of time to take time.
Real trees shed needles and even that is okay by me. Once January arrives and we get past Epiphany, or January 6, it seems that tree gotta go. And getting that tree out of the house means a cascade of needles fall everywhere. Removal has to be a well-planned out process, allowing for the tree to exit in the shortest and easiest way possible. Yes, a few needles never get cleaned up. They sort of exist in hiding, waiting for that June day, when all the sudden, one or two appear. And that is where the true magic of having that real tree takes place. It’s a wistful feeling of another holiday gone, another year of watching your child grow up. The tree that year is that year. So symbolic of time, love, joy and memory. Those emotions, good and sad, linger in those stubborn needles, ghosts of Christmas past. I will stoop over and gingerly remove one that has poked up from a gap between the floorboards. I will break it and instinctively hold it to my nose to get the faintest whiff of pine. I am immediately carried back to my childhood, my wonder.
O Tannenbaum O Tannenbaum! Du kannst mir sehr gefallen!
What happiness befalls me!
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