When I was small my father always insisted on buying a real tree for Christmas. Father, who worked with wood every day, wanted only authentic things. As his piano business prospered, each year the tree grew bigger, until one year it nearly touched the living room ceiling. These trees were tossed out after the holidays, but at that time we didn’t think too much about this sort of thing.
In his old age Father still puts on Christmas lights around his kitchen window. His trees have been small potted gifts from friends. When a tree gets too big he instructs the gardener to plant it in his backyard. One has grown into a beautiful blue spruce.
Last night my daughter Julia sent a photo of her Christmas tree—a baby rosemary bush. She’ll continue to have fresh herb after the holidays. The tradition goes on, but with a much more considerate attitude.
Photo by Julia Hsu.
