Since the stroke nearly three years ago now, we’ve lost a lot of things. Some of them I don’t miss–like the yearly argument over the Christmas tree.
Mr H always held that the *proper* Christmas tree was an itchy cedar.
My ideal tree is a Fraser Fir.
Every year we’d alternate choosing the tree. On my year we’d scout out the local vendors for the freshest Fir we could find. On his year, we’d head out to a tree farm that had cedars–or he would, if I was feeling too cranky about being forced to make do with another flimsy cedar.
On my year, we’d be able to have my entire collection of Hallmark ornaments on display. His year, we’d have lightweight glass baubles, itchy rashes, and runny noses.
(Don’t think for a second that I wouldn’t put up with it every year if we could erase the stroke. I’d throw the Hallmarks in the driveway and run the car over them.)
In any case, it’s my choice of tree every year now. I get to pick the spot, move the furniture, vacuum, drag the (artificial Fraser Fir) tree and all the ornaments down from the attic, and set it up. Then I get to buy and wrap all the presents to go underneath.
It’s a lot of work, this Christmas tree thing!
Fortunately Mr H is able to help decorate it. I asked him today when he wanted to put up the tree. He said “Soon.” I took that as my cue to drag everything downstairs and get ready.
Yes that tree weighs nearly 43 pounds. I’ll need help getting it back to the attic. Gravity helped me get it downstairs–fast!
I cleared a space in front of the living room window and got it set up. I wrapped the base with my c.1982 patchwork tree skirt, and stood on the back of the couch to put the c.2010 star on top.
Perhaps the time for decorating will come tomorrow. For now, it’s nice to know we’ve made a start.