Recently I was lucky enough to read and review Holly's debut novella called A Cinderella Christmas and today I am so excited to welcome Holly to the blog. She has written a truly fantastic piece about Christmas trees...
I have a strange Christmas tradition, I have to admit. I have a peculiar penchant for buying the ugliest Christmas tree in the store. And I’m not sure why I do it! There’s no other area of my life where I look at something and go “wow, that’s hideous, no one else will want it” and proceed to try and stuff said item in to my car. But a Christmas tree, ahhhh, lonely tree, how festive are your branches!
There is something so exciting about tree shopping. It’s the beginning of the metamorphosis of your home from stand Ikea-esque living space to a festive wonderland, where nothing needs to match, as long as it’s sparkly or has tinsel attached to it! And a Christmas tree politely begs to have presents placed beneath its branches. It never looks quite right without wrapping paper boxes festooned at it its feet. And each taped parcel is way more majestic than the sum of its parts. You could wrap a tin of beans in colourful paper and I’d be quite delighted.
And so operation purchase tree begins! It’s always a hat and gloves day. Even if it isn’t that cold I need to be wrapped up like a pig in a padded blanket to go tree shopping. It puts me in the mood. Then off we trot to the local garden centre. And we oooh and aaaah at all the enormous eight foot pines and imagine what they’d look like in our house. Bent. They’d look bent. We aren’t rich and famous. We live in a small house, with a ceiling which certainly would not accommodate a tree mountain, and certainly not with an angel on top. So then we trundle to the realistic section, already feeling a little inadequate that we’ve not been able to buy a tree which would make Jack from the Giant Beanstalk proud.
As we gaze at what we can feasibly fit in the car, and into the living room, Steve will spot a handsome looking strong tree. A manly tree. And he’ll make the manly decision that “we’ll have that one!”
But then, as we’re trying to hijack a member of staff to stuff our tree into one of those strange tree fishnet tight thingies that they use to batten down the branches...I see it. The lonely tree! The one that doesn’t require a low ceiling ‘cos the top’s already bent at a ninety degree angle. The one that you won’t need to worry about dropping needles, as it’s practically bald. The one that is leaning in a serious wonk to the left. My tree! And then I look at Steve, and he sighs, ‘cos he’s used to me and I’m the kind of person that instigates sighing in people. And we buy the ugly tree. And Steve wants to ask for discount, and I won’t let him, just in case we hurt the tree’s feelings. After all, that tree will be the first official Christmas guest in our home.
There is something so exciting about tree shopping. It’s the beginning of the metamorphosis of your home from stand Ikea-esque living space to a festive wonderland, where nothing needs to match, as long as it’s sparkly or has tinsel attached to it! And a Christmas tree politely begs to have presents placed beneath its branches. It never looks quite right without wrapping paper boxes festooned at it its feet. And each taped parcel is way more majestic than the sum of its parts. You could wrap a tin of beans in colourful paper and I’d be quite delighted.
And so operation purchase tree begins! It’s always a hat and gloves day. Even if it isn’t that cold I need to be wrapped up like a pig in a padded blanket to go tree shopping. It puts me in the mood. Then off we trot to the local garden centre. And we oooh and aaaah at all the enormous eight foot pines and imagine what they’d look like in our house. Bent. They’d look bent. We aren’t rich and famous. We live in a small house, with a ceiling which certainly would not accommodate a tree mountain, and certainly not with an angel on top. So then we trundle to the realistic section, already feeling a little inadequate that we’ve not been able to buy a tree which would make Jack from the Giant Beanstalk proud.
As we gaze at what we can feasibly fit in the car, and into the living room, Steve will spot a handsome looking strong tree. A manly tree. And he’ll make the manly decision that “we’ll have that one!”
But then, as we’re trying to hijack a member of staff to stuff our tree into one of those strange tree fishnet tight thingies that they use to batten down the branches...I see it. The lonely tree! The one that doesn’t require a low ceiling ‘cos the top’s already bent at a ninety degree angle. The one that you won’t need to worry about dropping needles, as it’s practically bald. The one that is leaning in a serious wonk to the left. My tree! And then I look at Steve, and he sighs, ‘cos he’s used to me and I’m the kind of person that instigates sighing in people. And we buy the ugly tree. And Steve wants to ask for discount, and I won’t let him, just in case we hurt the tree’s feelings. After all, that tree will be the first official Christmas guest in our home.
Thank you so much to Holly for writing this fantastic piece.
You can find Holly in many different places!
On her website, Twitter and Facebook.
And don't forget to read her absolutely fantastic Christmas Novella!
You can find Holly in many different places!
On her website, Twitter and Facebook.
And don't forget to read her absolutely fantastic Christmas Novella!