Tuesday, December 7, 2010

pushy tree

I cut my Christmas tree last Monday, and when I got it into the house and set up, I discovered it was rather bigger than I'd thought. I was standing above it on the pond bank when I made the final choice and cut it. I prefer a tree short enough that I don't have to get up on a ladder to decorate it. I got back down alive to tell the tale, however, and I planned ahead: I put only non-breakable decorations on the highest part, and when I take it down I'm going to just pull the lights out of that part from ground level, take the tree out of its bucket, and take the last ornaments off with the tree lying down.

Here it is in the dark with the fire blazing:

I'm impressed with my camera's image stabilizing and my own breath control. One-tenth of a second, there.

The problem with a bigger-than-you-think tree is that it's...bigger.

It pushed the blue chair out of its way. The blue chair is one of my favorites.

I have found a place to move the blue chair to, where it gets plenty of daylight to read (or crochet) by, but there is nothing near to put a coffee cup on.

Next year I will choose the tree more carefully.


  1. Oh, but it's a pretty tree!
    The blue chair is lovely, too, and will be fine for the duration.
    (now you've inspired me to actually do some decorating - perhaps this weekend!)

  2. I apologize for inspiring you. : )

    The blue chair looks rather stiff and bony, but it's amazingly comfortable.

  3. Beautiful! Thanks for sharing... it makes me happy to think of you enjoying such lovliness.

  4. Oh that tree looks lovely. But I feel like there should be a story about The Lonely Little Christmas Chair. ;)

  5. I can almost hear that story, Hilary: the lonely chair on the far side of the tree, against the cold window, while the Other Furniture is all gathered around the fire. (Probably Santa should end up sitting in it.) But I've known this furniture all my life, and that chair and its brothers and sisters (and its cousin the marble-topped table) did not survive roughly 150 years by being weaklings. That chair is either saying to itself "*I* know what happens to trees after the holidays!" or "I've lasted all this time because humans favored me; this is only a blip."