Christmas in May. How lovely. Sorry, Ted, this one got lost in the Everlasting-Calendar-of-Doom. Promised for December 2024. Here it is, let it serve to remind us of the months to come…
Southern Legitimacy Statement: I am a native of North Carolina, born before the state was called Variety Vacationland. That slogan always intrigued me as if this geography was suitable for a few days of sightseeing, fun and frolic and little else. The not so ubiquitous Dixie Dynamo title did little to dissuade visitors as intended to spark investors. I am familiar with Pack Square in Asheville and Packhouse Road in Zebulon; the white squirrels in Brevard and the whitecaps in Corolla. I feel this should stand me in good stead.
How Lovely Are Thy Branches
Charles Dickens called the Christmas tree “that pretty German toy”. In a newspaper column in 1850. Dickens described a tree sitting on a round table laden with a collection of miniature dolls, watches, clocks, sugar plums and such, including lit tapers. Another Charles, Charles Shulz published his cartoon PEANUTS in 1950. Later, his treatment of the woodsy holiday emblem was a wilted, single trunked, bare boughed, twig with a single round ball adornment. Replicas of Charlie Brown’s choice may be purchased even today. One of these ideas may be as everlasting as the other in our appreciation of the symbol of the holiday–Christmas.
My own appreciation or involvement with the flora of Christmas falls between the two times of the Charles. It takes place in several patches of North Carolina woods.
Growing up in a rural community in the 1940s, the approach to the Christmas break from grade school had all the excitement you might expect. Added to the last day or school was the anticipation of the group tree hunt. This was not a visit to some vacant lot that flourish as a crop these days sometime in late November. This was an out-in-the-woods search for the decorative specimen. Not a solo flight. We had a neighborhood search team. The unwritten rule was for kids of all ages, under the direction of the older of the crowd, would trek into the woods around us a get a suitable tree for each household on the hunt
Various tools were brought along to carry out the mission. Younger kids were not entrusted with the jobs as axe, saw, or hatchet porter. That came with the age and size of the leaders of the group. A rite of passage.
There could be as many as a dozen members of the party, maybe more, representing perhaps five or six families- thus five or six trees.
There was no choice as to the species of the trees in question: CEDAR. Triangle, cone-shaped. These trees grew throughout our nearby woods. They were the kind of tree ‘everybody had’. Besides, some of the men in our village always found a giant cedar for the community celebration. Cedar was the tradition. We kids followed that tradition. And the tree hunt was an adventure. A time when the older kids would allow those of us who were younger to join them.
I need to tell you that this was a time when such jaunts into the woods were fun. Well most of them were. One time in the late 1940s began with a little bit of rain that turned to sleet mixed with snow. It finished sucessfully in terms of trees found and returned. Successful also in terms of lectures and recriminations handed out byu fathers who finished work at the plant and set out in search in the darkening, freezing weather for the intrepid tree hunters. That was the year we were snow bound for several days. Our tree was safe. So was my new bicycle that wasn’t even taken outside until after New Year’s.
There was a report that in New York this storm was equal to the blizzard of 1888.
A few years later when we moved 90 miles away, cedar trees weren’t so plentiful. The running cedar, a ground cover moss suitable for wreaths and wrapping light posts was plentiful. After all, North Carolina is the ‘land of the long leaf pine”. Our r section of the state was more loblolly–short leaf. Before I left home to seek fame and fortune, I scouted and delivered several of these new favorite Chritsmas trees as annual decorations.
The aluminum Christmas trees debuted in 1955–but not in our house! Charlie Brown vetoed them, too. Even though the metal monsters were in favor for about 10 years, we never got attracted—not even non-magnetically. When my parents gave into an artificial tee, it was more fir/pine in presentation.
The first artificial Christmas trees in Germany used dyed green goose feathers, The PVC, flame retardant trees came along. Bare-limbed at first but later prelit. (I’ll not get into the string of Chnristmas lights: white versus multicoloredI, or ‘all go out when one burns out’)
Add this to your Yule tree knowledge: N. C. produces over 20% of the harvested real trees in the U. S. That’s second in the country.
Most of us today are familiar with the commercial Christmas tree lots. And there are some civic group lots that still spring up as fund raising efforts. As a member of a civic group in the RTP area, I participated in such an endeavor. Several of the clubs joined together to operate a lot on a busy street. Individual clubs provided manpower for the lot. I was on duty for a couple of nights during the season. The stock of trees inside the highway trailer was not a choice batch, Let’s face it, every diamond isn’t flawless. Our stock was neither high priced nor anywhere near the top of the line, but certainly above the Charlie Brown quality. I think we filled a niche in the desires for holiday decoration,
I have a warm spot in my heart for most everyone who seeks to grow something out of the earth in order to feed their family. That includes Christmas tree farmers. It may take 7 or 8 years, or longer for Christmas trees to mature . And there are many choose and cut your own farms across the state, if you wish to take a little more nature into your search for a tree. We took a jaunt one such lot a year or two ago
That brings me to another stanza of group tree searches, I married into a family that BELIEVES in a Christmas tree search. One such venture–before my time in the group– was conducted in weather akin to my late 40s snow/sleet experience. The family refers to it as the BLOOD,SWEAT AND TEARS search.
Depending on family schedules this jaunt usually takes place on the Friday or Saturday after Thanksgiving. All hands on deck, including the younger members who have a chance to get a “personal tree”. And the prerequisite is a cedar that fits in the 12-foot ceiling entry hall of the old home. This search is over farm land and usually requires some vehicle travel over back roads—hopefully in clear weather. Arriving at a likely wooded area, family members pile out of the cars or trucks to scout. It may take several hours of searching. Numerous trees may be considered and rejected. The “first one we saw” has been the final selection on some occasions.
The nieces, nephews, cousins and outliers such as I are along for the ride or for the manual work of cutting.
The sisters are the final arbiters of the tree. To the younger sister goes the task of trimming and arranging for the space chores. After all, she lives there. In 2023, she and her son were allowed to make the choice. They selected, cut and placed the tree. It was agreed that they did a good job.
One year a pre-lit, artificial tree was erected. I’ll simply say it didn’t pass muster. It didn’t stay up long.
As part of Thanksgiving tradition, ornaments are made and the family does the decorating. It’s a tradition that brings a lot of memories, times to cherish and the chance for youngsters to participate.
My immediate family often chose a tree from the inventory at a grocery store, or a commercial lot. Recent years brought the advent of an artificial tree. The time to change was decided by my youngest daughter. I didn’t object. My granddaughter is the recipient of the joy of the tree and the season. That’s all the better.
So when all is said and done the tree is a symbol, but you knew all along. I think people have an attachment to the green because it represents life or growth during the dead of winter. It can mean the eternal life of Jesus.
Overtime Christmas trees have become part of our lives in many ways. I’ll cherish my memories and wish you the same. Fir, pine, cedar or even aluminum.
The two Charles were in different times we know, but somehow their recognition is apt.
“Oh may I, with a gray head, turn the child’s heart to that figure yet, and a child’s trustfulness and confidence.” Dickens wrote.
“I never thought it was a bad little tree…maybe it just needs a little love,”Linus said.
THE END
