This is just wrong.
Dec. 4th, 2004 07:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
framlingemZellers (and presumably other places) is selling plastic Christmas trees. I have no beef with this. I grew up with a plastic tree. My beef is this - the trees come already decorated.
What on Earth is the point?
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lifelongmanic and I decorate the Christmas tree every year. We argue over which tinsel to use (I'm fond of the blue), we hunt through the box for our favorite ornaments (I like the china snowman). Our ornaments include the same angel which sat atop the tree in Dorset when my mother was growing up; it's a plastic doll, with a nearly-gone painted on face, a pink skirt, a silver tinsel bodice, and wings that were made anew of silver card two years ago when the old ones finally gave up and fell off. There are two 'baby's first Christmas' ornaments from December 1987, when I was still three years old and enchanted (usually. On occasions I was deeply frustrated) with my tiny new sister, not quite two months old. There are horrible things made out of egg cartons and aluminum foil with a dab of glue holding a dot of purple sparkles, created by a very young me. There's an acorn mouse sleeping in a walnut cradle, which I made when I was ten. There are three (of six) glass teardrops left - a pink one, a blue one, and a yellow one. There's an ancient reindeer made out of a candy cane which is probably fossilised by now, and another made of a pinecone. There are carved wooden angels and toy soldiers and drums, a baked clay St. Nicholas; there are lights which flash on and off, with little covers which make them into tiny lanterns, which I used to squint at for hours, watching the lights blur.
The tree is not the one I grew up with anymore - all the first tree's needles were falling off. But the ornaments hold in them the Christmasses of my childhood.
A pre-decorated tree just seems cold.
What on Earth is the point?
lifelongmanic and I decorate the Christmas tree every year. We argue over which tinsel to use (I'm fond of the blue), we hunt through the box for our favorite ornaments (I like the china snowman). Our ornaments include the same angel which sat atop the tree in Dorset when my mother was growing up; it's a plastic doll, with a nearly-gone painted on face, a pink skirt, a silver tinsel bodice, and wings that were made anew of silver card two years ago when the old ones finally gave up and fell off. There are two 'baby's first Christmas' ornaments from December 1987, when I was still three years old and enchanted (usually. On occasions I was deeply frustrated) with my tiny new sister, not quite two months old. There are horrible things made out of egg cartons and aluminum foil with a dab of glue holding a dot of purple sparkles, created by a very young me. There's an acorn mouse sleeping in a walnut cradle, which I made when I was ten. There are three (of six) glass teardrops left - a pink one, a blue one, and a yellow one. There's an ancient reindeer made out of a candy cane which is probably fossilised by now, and another made of a pinecone. There are carved wooden angels and toy soldiers and drums, a baked clay St. Nicholas; there are lights which flash on and off, with little covers which make them into tiny lanterns, which I used to squint at for hours, watching the lights blur. The tree is not the one I grew up with anymore - all the first tree's needles were falling off. But the ornaments hold in them the Christmasses of my childhood.
A pre-decorated tree just seems cold.
