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I grew up with a family of real Christmas tree enthusiasts.
My father was a forester.
My grandfather was a forester.
And we had a family-owned Christmas tree farm in Georgia.
When I was a kid, I loved to visit my grandparents’ farm in December.
My grandmother served the guests coffee and cocoa, my dad and grandfather tied the trees onto the cars, and my mom and aunt crafted gorgeous fresh Christmas wreaths.
I had a pretty sweet job, too. Actually, I had the best job of all.
I was the hospitality. And entertainment. And chauffeur. And tour guide.
And receiver of a thousand compliments.
I’d load up the customers in the Gator, put on my cute little hat, and give them the grand tour of the farm as I drove them to the tree field.
I’d tell them about the old barn and how my best friend and I used to explore it and look for treasures.
I’d tell them about the big tractor in the shed and how I once got it stuck in the pond.
I’d tell them about the cows and how I named almost all of them.
And they loved me.
After they chose their tree, my grandfather brought it back and prepped it for it’s departure to it’s new home.
I’d wave goodbye to my new friends and tell them to come back again next year.
And I’d wait (semi)-patiently for more customers to arrive.
There’s just something about being on a Christmas tree farm in December that is magical for a child.
And now, every time I smell the scent of those gorgeous Fraiser Firs, my heart flutters a little.
So you’d think I’d have a real tree in my house, right?
I have two cats, a dog, and a wild man eight year old.
Put those together and it’s a recipe for disaster.
Every Christmas since Noah was born, I’d miss the ambiance of a real tree as I disappointingly stared at that fake thing in the corner.
I’d call it a thing. Because it wasn’t really a tree. So it didn’t get the privilege of being called one.
Then I met the faux tree of my dreams.
I found this little guy at Cracker Barrel and instantly fell in love.
The sparse branches, the wooden trunk, the varied materials.
It is the most unperfect little tree I’ve ever seen.
I can safely say now that there’s no disappointment when I look in the corner by the window.
Just love. And happiness.
And a Christmas tree scented candle helps a little bit too.
What’s your opinion? Real or artificial?
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