The Combover Tree

Just before Thanksgiving, Michael and I bought a Christmas tree from the garden center at the hardware store I’ve been going to for many years. Over that time I have gotten to know one of the employees who always works the late afternoon and evening shift. This summer as he was loading mulch into my car, we had a long conversation and I found out that he was also the full-time groundskeeper at the university I worked at for five years. We got caught up on all the new and/or renovated buildings on campus and threw names back and forth of people we both knew. After that conversation, he became my preferred personal assistant for all things outside. On the night we went to buy our tree, though, he wasn’t working. Instead a younger guy was working the lot, probably college age, and even though he seemed well-versed in Christmas trees he wasn’t my guy and I immediately had trust issues. We circled the lot and selection of trees, Michael holding one up and me saying what was wrong with it which got repeated over and over. I have always bought a Frasier Fir but in the 7-8′ range they were much smaller than in years past. To go larger was an $80 jump in price which I thought was holiday blackmail. I asked about the Balsam Fir which looked full, healthy, and the perfect shape. Our tree consultant gave us the deets, and though I had my misgivings, we decided that would be the one. He sawed off the end and then he and Michael loaded it into the car while I went inside to pay. With a coupon for $15 off, our 2025 Christmas tree cost a whopping $35.

We got it home, cut the rope surrounding it, and put it in the stand. The branches relaxed and the following day Mabel and I decorated it. It was lovely, probably my best tree ever, but after a few days I noticed that it wasn’t taking in water. Every day I would get on the floor, scoot under the tree, and check the water level which never seemed to be going down. I became obsessed with our tree’s health. Was it turning brown? I couldn’t tell if it was the lighting or the fact that there were brown velvet ornaments on it but it seemed to be on life support. Michael suggested we get another tree but I had already decorated a tree and didn’t want to do it again. I went to a different nursery for some greenery for the pots on the porch and asked the guys on their tree lot if this tree could be saved. They told me I needed to cut some more off the end and immediately stick it in boiling water. “It opens it up so it can take in more water,” they told me. “It’s already decorated,” I told them, “can’t I just spray something on it?” Well, no, I couldn’t so I decided that this tree was going to have to do.

The first Saturday in December we had a party for Mike’s lab. Twenty plus people in the house and our tree shedding needles like a retailer with an abundance of Christmas sweaters. “It’s beautiful,” someone said to me and I smiled and said, “Thank you, it could go up in flames at any moment.” The next morning we assessed it again. Michael said we should bite the bullet and replace it which I still did not want to do until a few hours later when I read on Facebook that the Boy Scouts selling trees at a church nearby were breaking down their lot and everything remaining was free. I flew upstairs and breathlessly said, “We have to go get a new tree!! A FREE tree, spit spot, let’s go before they’re all gone,” and Jethro and I put on our galoshes and warm woolen hats and hitched up the wagon.

We drove over and I exclaimed, “There they are!!,” when I spotted them on the curb and jumped out of the car. The first half-dozen were too small and I thought we were going to shoot craps on a free tree until we spotted a Frasier Fir that was just the right height. A few dead branches on the bottom that needed to be trimmed but otherwise a decent tree. One of the scout leaders came over to offer his help and I said, “Thank you, this is so helpful. We already bought a tree but it is drying out so fast that we need to replace it.” Why did I feel the need to say this? Because I didn’t want him to think we WERE THOSE KIND OF PEOPLE who go around nabbing free stuff because we’re cheap even though that was exactly what we were doing.

We got it home and Michael sawed off the dead branches and a few inches off the bottom. I put the kettle on to boil water then poured it into a bucket, plopped the new tree in, and undecorated the original tree. When I finished and Michael had unscrewed it from the tree stand it popped out and you could carry it with one hand it was so dead. In went the new tree, with lots of water, and we stood back to admire our new tree.

After its grooming, our new tree was a dwarf that had a hole in the back and a gaping dent on the side. The kind of tree that sat on a Christmas tree lot for weeks because it was so ugly, so deformed, a dog of a tree. A few hours later when Will came over and saw it he said, “Just turn this side around so it’s in the back,” and I said, “This is the good side.” My sister said I should stick a stuffed animal in the dent, “Something Christmasy like a polar bear.” Michael suggested we fold some of the branches over to fill in the holes like a bald man with a combover then proceeded to demonstrate. “Or we could just go buy another one,” he said, but I had faith that lights and ornaments might make this dumpster fire better. It didn’t.

The next morning I went to the curb to bring the garbage cans in and in the gutter was a lone silver ornament – a castoff from our original tree that had just been hauled away. I brought it in and hung it on the tree, stood back, and said, “You are by far the ugliest tree I have ever owned,” and 2025 Christmas Tree said, “Hundred percent, girl, but I drink water like a camel.”

Merry Christmas to you and yours. May it be an oddly shaped mess of light and love.