I have targeted December 17 as the Day of the Tree. I've got a beauty tagged out at the Christmas tree farm. On the Day of the Tree, I'll drive out there, have my friend and owner of the Christmas tree farm cut it down, put it on the shaker to remove as many loose needles as possible (there's always some dried grass stuck in the tree and a few needles close to the trunk hang on desperately). then he'll toss it in the baler which wraps the boughs up and makes it easier to toss into the car for the trip back to the luxurious Pimplebutt Estate.
Time between the saw blade touching the trunk and the tree up in its holder filled with water: 45 minutes! You can't get fresher than that! The tree will be untwined from its wrapping and the boughs will unfold. Dozen strings of miniature lights later and we're ready for trimming. A silver Moravian star tops the tree, silver, red, gold and green ornaments adorn it and a garland of silver beads drapes elegantly from the boughs. An ivory and gold embroidered tree skirt is placed around the base. Then my tragically wrapped gifts are arraigned around that.
I know where the mistletoe is in the oak forests. I gather up some of that and make a kissing ball that goes in the center of the ceiling in the Great Hall. The arched doorways to the kitchen, front portico and bedchambers are decked with red berry and grapevine garlands. The mantle gets slabs of green Styrofoam into which artificial pine boughs, artificial red berry sprigs and small ornaments are stuck. The whole thing is topped off with miniature Christmas lights.
I'll begin vacuuming that day and repeat every day until mid April once all the errant needles have been removed from the floors. This season drives Daisy the Mutt absolutely ape as she and the vacuum sweeper do not agree on anything.
Because I am blessed to be married to a 30-year general insurance adjuster who worked mostly the big, complicated losses/claims, we are not allowed a real tree. He worked too many Christmas fires. If I insisted he would probably reluctantly agree, but because it would be so uncomfortable or worrisome for him, we enjoy our little 4' table top tree that is already wired with lights and sets up and decorates in a few minutes. And it is good.
But it sure doesn't smell like that freshly cut real Christmas tree.
Back in the days of my youth, Christmas trees stood erect by way of a cross of wood tacked to the base of the trunk. No reservoir of fresh water to keep the tree sated. Then they put a wire insulated with asbestos laden cloth and carrying sockets for 7 watt light bulbs around those dried branches.
The home was heated by a coal furnace. Little clumps of soot would swirl around on the front porches like tiny black tornados. The air hung thick with the aroma of burning coal. Every day, embers were removed from the furnace. Some folks put the coal ash in pasteboard boxes and then spread them out on snow covered streets in lieu of rock salt. Sometimes a clinker, an unburned pebble of coal, would show up in those pasteboard boxes.
I swear to God, I don't know how houses just didn't explode with dry Christmas trees, hot lights, coal embers and faulty knob and tube wiring.