There we were– just two days ago, Christmas Eve, about noon. Staring at the ugliest tree I’d ever seen. My daughter called it a “Charlie Brown tree”. Didn’t I know what that was? Vague memories surfaced from some brain chasm. I reminded her that she watched the cartoon specials many more times than me. But I caught her meaning. We would buy this tree and make it beautiful.
In the movie or sit com of my life, this year I had decorated the house –lighted special swags on the mantle, the stairway, special arrangements adorned the dining room, holiday out door planters, and more. But no “ tree”. The “tree” requires two people to bring it into the house and one to hold it while the other angles the bottom trunk into the water stand. This year, scheduling seemed to prevent that occurrence.
I was content without one. We’d sit before the fire with the lighted decorated mantle to open our plunder. No needle trail to vacuum or need to crawl on my hands and knees to water it daily. But my daughter thought otherwise.
This was why I had the ugliest tree ever. Surprisingly, it’s appearance improved with my daughter’s patient turning it–this way and that–shown below.
Later, after dark, I watched adult “kids” as we call them, transform the misshaped, leaning, scraggly evergreen into a beautiful Christmas tree.
While I wouldn’t call it a Christmas miracle, I was impressed with the magic created with lights, ornaments, some ribbon, and a tree skirt. Additionally, the knowledge that this tree I can take out myself without having to beg a neighbor for a favor or a busy adult kid to help me. Lots to be said for this “Charlie Brown Tree”.