Christmas in our house is over−almost. There are still a few decorations to take down but the living room is done which means the tree is now outside where it belongs.
For fifty weeks of the year this little tree has been sitting in its pot waiting for the moment it comes into its own. Bought last year, from Sainsbury’s, it was spindly, slightly lop-sided thing that needed a wealth of baubles, tinsel and lights to make it look anywhere near acceptable.
In the past eleven and half months it’s flourished in a shadowy spot close to the house. It’s grown straighter, bushier, greener and even begun to smell like a proper pine tree.
Hopefully next year it will be even sturdier. It’ll do my best to nourish and cherish it and when it finally gets too big, we’ll be sure to find it a congenial spot in a garden where it will continue to flourish.
Artificial trees are easier, quicker to put up and take down and don’t leave a trail of needles behind them, but nothing equals the joy of a tree, especially one that will be welcomed in every December, year on year.