When I recently posted on Facebook a Christmas blog I wrote years ago called The Perfect Tree, I realized I have never written the story of our experience as newlyweds getting our first Christmas tree--The Imperfect Tree, or more fittingly, Tree-saster. One December day before our first Christmas together, Reed was off aircraft school. I had stayed home from work because I had a cold so, since Helena had warmed up to a balmy 20 below zero, Reed decided we should go find a Christmas tree. After driving through the hills around Helena, we climbed a shale slope only to discover that the tree that looked good from below was more yellow than green on the side facing the hill. Since we had climbed up rock chips to reach that tree, and its neighbors didn't look any better, we decided to cut it anyway.
My cold had drained most of my energy and climbing the shale hillside had depleted the rest, so I was having a hard time getting down the hill holding my end of the tree. Sometime during my sit/scoot descent and Reed's sideways slide, the tree made a break for freedom. It made much better time than we did in its downhill roll, and became even more aerodynamic when the branches snapped off from the cold. By the time the three of us reached the bottom, our tree no longer looked yellow because it was a limbless wonder. We left its nearly naked trunk and kindling at the bottom of the hill and drove back to town tired and treeless.
When we arrived at home, there was a Christmas tree next to our trailer (it was not pretentious enough to call a mobile home). Reed's uncle had cut an extra tree while getting his own and left it for us while we were out not getting one. This event proved to be the first of several tree finding family fiascos that ended with us buying a tree from a lot three blocks from home. Eventually, we decided to skip the memorable mess of trudging through the forest to locate the tree my husband spotted when it served as a rest stop during hunting season, only to discover it was too scrawny to rest in the living room. Or the time it rained and Reed had to rock and push our stuck vehicle out with the deficient assistance of three preschoolers and a wife, all whining.
The little corner tree stands where people used to sell fresh cut trees for extra income during the holidays have been supplanted by a few expensive lots. Some of those support charities so at least the extra money goes to a good cause. When we moved to Kalispell, there were many tree farms where you could cut your own Christmas tree. Sadly, but understandably, most of those converted their properties to much more lucrative housing developments. In recent years we have bought Christmas trees at the same places we buy hardware. This year, the price difference between a 6 foot real fir and a 7 foot pre-lit faux fir was $9, so for the first time, we chose artificial for the traditional Christmas tree corner of our living room. It has both white and multicolor lights and nine program options for viewing them. That is a nice bonus, but the ad had me at $9.
Holiday traditions are memorable, so are mishaps. When the two factors combine, those events become unforgettable--which is why so many people remember our anniversary. It is a good thing we were already married before we realized that our first Christmas tree hunt would be the pattern for more misadventures to come, otherwise the disasters on our wedding day would have had us running for our life, not becoming man and wife.
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