O Christmas tree

A few years ago we purchased an "artificial" (fake) Christmas tree. The tree dresses up quite nicely, with its narrow and symmetrical profile perfectly filling up the spot by the living room window. More than that, I love the fact I can take the tree out to the garage, cover it with a sheet and forget about until next December. However, the utilitarian beauty of this arrangement is lost upon my 17-year old daughter, for every year since we have purchased the "artificial" Christmas tree we have also purchased a real Christmas tree and set it up in the basement. As usual, my daughter gave us numerous entreaties to purchase a "real tree" this year. Foolishly, I resisted, mistakenly sensing the desire would drop away like so many needles of a dried-up evergeen if I simply ignored it. Not so. After another poignant plea - this time a text message on the cell phone - "Pleeeasse can we get a tree?," my wife and I picked up a "real" Christmas tree last night and brought it home to Betsy. It was one of three white pine trees left at HyVee, and a bargain at $20. With minor primping and pruning - and turning the patchy side toward the wall - it is a fine example of natural beauty.

Now it's not quite the same memory as we have enjoyed in the past - visiting a Christmas tree farm on a snowy day, having hot chocolate and a tractor ride before cutting down our own, well-scrutinized, tree - but it is a real tree and I'm glad we got it. I promise myself I won't let a little practicality stand in the way of Christmas spirit again - at least as long as our daughter insists on it.

By the way, the National Christmas Tree Association gives the inside dope on fake trees, and further support my daughter's impulse. Fresh wins again.