ANDRE BEGIN

The first time I went shopping for a real Christmas tree, I instantly knew which one was coming home with me. It was a beautiful specimen of a balsam fir, with nicely shaped branches and very fresh needles, reminding me of the trees my parents chose when I was a kid.

In choosing the ideal location for the tree, the dining room seemed like the best place. In that central location, the tree could be seen from the living room, dining room and kitchen, thus maximizing viewing pleasure opportunities.

Once I had the tree set up in its tip-proof stand in the corner of my ten foot by ten foot dining room, it was time to embark on the tree trimming tradition.

As I brought the boxes of decorations up from the basement, the wonderfully rich aroma of the Christmas tree had already permeated the living space, offering a subtle whisper that it was indeed time for the holidays. It already felt like the traditions of Christmas past were revived, alive and well.

As I began decorating, I decided to nudge the dining room table a bit closer to the wall opposite the tree to give myself a little more room to navigate.

The first step was to clip the big strand of multi-coloured twinkling lights to the branches. I always held a great deal of fondness for these random twinkling lights, as they seemingly brought movement and life to the tree.

When I stepped back to review my work, I bumped into the dining room table. It appeared that through the process of installing the lights, the tree’s branches decided to spread out a little more from the additional weight. That being the case, I nudged the table a few inches closer to the wall.

The next step was the green garland, a trick I learned from my Mom for creating an optical illusion of fullness whenever Mother Nature might leave behind gaps between branches. Then came the ornaments I had collected over the years, many of which were a throwback to the ones on our family’s tree and my grandparents’ tree. As I carefully added each ornament, trying to keep the tree looking balanced for colour, symmetry and overall esthetic from every angle, I thought to myself how Martha Stewart would be proud.

With glittering ornaments dangling from every branch, I took a step back to admire my work. The tree was looking wonderful. However, in doing so, I bumped into the table again.

Unfortunately, the garland and the ornaments weighed down the branches even more, devouring more of the limited free space in the dining room.

The only way to make peace with the Christmas tree that was slowly taking over my dining room was to put the dining room table flush against the opposite wall and call it a day. Given that I didn’t have plans for having people over for a holiday meal in the following weeks, it likely wouldn’t be a problem.

To my surprise, in the coming days, the tree’s branches kept descending, making it even wider. I had clearly underestimated the span of its branches and the amount of space I should have allotted. It surprised me that through the years, words of wisdom and experience to this effect were not passed down the generations to me, nor did it ever come up in casual conversation.

For my first time in getting a real Christmas tree, there was certainly a valuable lesson learned. When picking out a tree, don’t underestimate the space it will take up when the branches are weighed down by lights, garland and ornaments.

With that experience and knowledge in my back pocket, the resolution for next year was carved in stone. Next year, the Christmas tree goes in the living room.

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Have a great day,
André