Treemas

I know I know, it's the 'C' word again. Trust me I'm equally as disgustipated with myself as you should rightfully be with me for yet again referring to it in October. It's atrocious and absurd. Christmas is winter we should be getting up close and personal doing the Lambada with Autumn. I feel like I'm being a trifle unfaithful even thinking the c word.

So I'll make this quick. I promise.

During a recent date with insomnia at Chez Google I stumbled across Hayes Garden World and inadvertently trees, more specifically, Christmas Trees. ARGH. I mean, seriously? Already? I dread to even think where we might even fit ours this year, ours which is hibernating blissfully unaware in the loft right now for you see we have a fake tree (sorry mum. Sorry Santa) logistics aside (we don't drive) as beautiful as real Christmas trees look I genuinely feel a great sense of sadness seeing their corpses strewn and littered in the new year. It reeks of death and of neglect. Now I'm no manic tree hugger yet I do feel am indescribable affinity to trees, I'm drawn to them. I find both beauty and calm amongst them. It seems ruthless and wasteful to use them then discard them. Yet there is something undeniably satisfying about a real tree. If The Husband had his way we'd have no tree and better still, no Christmas. Failing that he'd heroically suffer and look at  fake Chrismas trees, so long as it was black and possibly fibre optic. I wonder if you can get black metal Christmas trees with corpse paint on? I am leaning towards the rather twee notion of sticking with our fake tree inside yet planting a real one outside, so that it will grow with us as we do as a family, a tree representative of the longevity of memories of each passing Christmas, perhaps a memory tree as opposed to merely a Christmas tree. With fairy lights. Lots of fairy lights. I like fairy lights.

 So how about you? Will you be faking it or keeping it real this Christmas?