Thoughts and Prayers upon the Occasion of Procuring a Christmas Tree

As a staunch observer of Advent, in my soul, I am always wishing we would go out two days before Christmas, chop down a well-shaped tree, drag it home in a sled, decorate it with real candles, and then take it promptly down again exactly upon the Feast of Epiphany (not some time in February between Valentine’s Day and the Feast of the Presentation). This is the proper Anglican Way–somber and guilty nibbling of pre-bought Christmas cookies by the flickering light of the Advent Wreath, and then a tasteful celebration of Christmas at the proper time that lasts all twelve days.

In fact, one year we were so stretched that we ran out On Christmas Eve and discovered the most perfect Christmas Miracle–a prelit fake tree at 75% off. We rushed home, clicked the thing together, and drank a bucket of eggnog. It was a beautiful moment.

But those kinds of days are in the long distant past. This is covid, and that means that 1. everyone is committed to celebrating anything on an epic scale of zeal that was already ramping itself up in these recent years as the memory of the “true” meaning of Christmas fades ever into the background of our cultural imagination, leaving only vestigial Hallmark hope and grasping materialism in its wake and 2. lots of forest fires. If you are looking for a tree and not finding one, this is possibly why:

Neville believes COVID-19 and the California wildfires caused a “ripple effect” that contributed to a tree shortage. The nationwide supply could not satisfy the demand, which means higher prices across the board. “There’s only a certain amount of five to six foot Christmas trees planted five years ago. A fire wipes those out. The next thing you know, the vendors are calling every farm in the country to try and fill their orders,” he said. “All of the vendors that are selling Christmas trees this year purchased them 20 to 30 percent higher than they did last year,” Neville said.

And this is also pretty interesting:

Neville suspects that Soho Trees and other vendors might also be taking 2020 off because a portion of their wealthy clientele were among those 300,000 who bolted the Big Apple over the last nine months.

“Selling Christmas trees in Manhattan is mayhem. Anything that can go wrong — does. It’s a very tough business,” he said.

Neville said there’s a market for the “smaller, cheaper” trees from North Carolina and Canada that he would sell in Chelsea, but they aren’t making it to the Big Apple.

One thing I’ve noticed as I’ve driven around Binghamton in the twilight is that people are going in for lights with a certain, what do you call it, vehemence–and they went up earlier, like weeks before Thanksgiving. And really, far be it from me to judge, because when I saw trees going up in people’s windows, I fretted and complained, “We can’t procrastinate this year,” I kept saying, and boy was I right. We all climbed in the car at 3, and we didn’t start driving home until 5:30 after a serious search back and forth across town. All the while I kept reminding the hoards about the miracle of Christmas–“Look,” I said, “we could go get one of those ones you click together and plug in,” as they complained about having to be in the car all together at the same time. Neverthless they all wished I would be quiet. Eventually we found a beautiful, tall, well-shaped evergreen sort of thing at the Boy Scouts. Not only was it a beautiful tree, but they also tied it on to our car for us. And they were adorable. Whatever other traumas they might be suffering as a national organization, they were absolutely charming in the matter of Christmas Trees.

We brought it home and festooned it with lights and watched a very very weird ancient television program–Emmet Otter’s Jug Band Christmas. This was at Matt’s assistance. “It’ll be great,” he said, “it’s a classic.” “Why is there a snake?” I asked, gaping. The children were speechless in their amazement. I do not understand this country, that’s all I have to say.

On the other hand, I do understand the deep need to put sorrow and woe to one side and throw tinsel in the air. The question of light, in particular, is so essential–it needs to be that longing, hopeful light that glows in the early-onset-winter-darkness. It needs to carry us through the last few weeks of a difficult year and on to the threshold of probably more turmoil and trouble. If ever the light of Jesus, himself coming into the world to cast away the works of darkness, to enlighten the eyes of the heart, was the thing that we needed, this is that moment.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some more greenery with which I intend to festoon my whole house. I’ll think about Advent some other year or something.