Our first Christmas

     Recently, I was reminded of my first Christmas as a young bride.  I was indeed young, nineteen years and six weeks to be exact, and a hopeless romantic.  I was determined to have a stately tree and to decorate it with fabulous ornaments - it would be comparable to a department store display.

     For those of you who live in the area, I had envisioned a trip to Arensberg's Grocery store on Main Street to select the perfect Christmas tree.  After selecting ther perfect tree, I envisioned selecting ornaments and lights.  We'd walk hand in hand through the aisles, agreeing on every detail! 

     When I suggested selecting a Christmas tree, Marlin scoffed at the idea of paying for one.  He had a better idea - he'd go to the pasture and cut down a tree.  I knew what that meant - a scrub tree!  I'd been to the pasture and I didn't remember any of the scrub trees looking stately.  Sickly was more like it.  The tree he brought home was scraggly; we turned it every which way trying to find the "best side" to face out - there was no "best side."  Oh well, I was determined not to let my disappointment show.  I put on my happy face and resolved to transform the tree with ornaments, lights and garland - lots of garland.

      My optimism was tested when Marlin told me we were NOT going to pay full price for ornaments or anything else related to decorating.  We would wait until they were 75% off after Christmas.  AND, we would buy them from the farm store!  I didn't cry, really I didn't.  Looking back, maybe I should have.  He might have let me buy one box of ornaments.  Instead, I did the only thing I could think of - I created a construction paper garland, just like we made in grade school.  I also strung popcorn and put that on the tree.  It wouldn't have been too bad, but scrub trees have a distinct smell.  You don't notice it when they're in the pasture, but brought inside they emit an odor simliar to cat urine.  Oh how I wished I hadn't been in such a hurry to get a tree!

     A week or so before Christmas, my husband's aunt took pity on me and made me two tiny crocheted stockings and a lady from church gave me a small beaded bell.  What a pitiful tree! 

     You know what?  In spite of the scraggly, smelly tree we had a wonderful Christmas.  We have laughed about that first tree for almost 30 years.  A memory was created that is better than any memory a perfect tree could have provided.