My First Christmas Tree, Page 2

him.”

  Swenson’s Christmas Tree Farm was famous in the little town. It was two weeks before Christmas, and the little tree watched from the trailer as old man Swenson set up the tree lot. First, he set up an open-sided tent with flaps that could be rolled up or down in the middle of the lot, then he erected a wooden fence around the tent to give the tree lot a rustic country look for customers. Strings of white lights were strung around the roof of the tent and along the top of the fence. Mr. Swenson also strung lights inside the tent so the trees, my buddies, could be examined in the best light. He covered the ground surface with a thick layer of hay and pine needles to hide the unsightly asphalt parking lot. We were finally unloaded from the trailer and placed into the tent. We were ready to be adopted, for a fee, by a family to serve as the family’s Christmas tree, which to most evergreens – pines, firs, and balsams - is the ultimate honor.

  Unfortunately, I am a small Douglas fir with a crooked trunk and a large bare spot, so I will never be a proud Christmas tree. I am not even sure why Mr. Swenson took me on this trip. Maybe he figures I will make a fine wreath or table centerpiece. It is not the same as being a Christmas tree, but anything that helps a family celebrate the birth of God’s son will be good with me. Let me share the story of the journey of how I got into this tent on this tree lot with Tommy and his new family.

  Let me tell you about life on the farm.

  I started life as a seedling on a commercial tree farm. I just wish that the people who planted me would have been as knowledgeable as Mr. Swenson because then I would have been cared for properly, and I could have achieved my lifelong dream of being a fine Christmas tree shining brightly on Christmas morning. Instead, I was planted at the end of the row, immediately adjacent to the farm’s fence line.

  This placement stunted my growth in two ways. First, I was unable to grow straight since I had to grow around the fence, and second, I was unable to grow branches on one side since the fence blocked their growth causing them to die. My growth, along with the other trees, was also stunted due to improper care, which consisted of inconsistent watering and malnutrition. Can you believe that I had never been examined by a botanist until Mr. Swenson purchased the tree farm 4 years ago? Things started looking up then.

  I remember when Mr. Swenson came into my life like it was yesterday. I was near death due to improper care, improper placement, and a lack of love. That all changed the day Mr. Swenson and his family stepped onto the farm. He completed a survey of the farm and saw that many of the trees were planted too closely together impeding their growth. He also had us examined by an arborist, which is a special tree doctor, and he could tell that we had been underfed and partially dehydrated. The tree doctor gave me a special exam since I was the sickest of all. I heard him tell Mr. Swenson that my prognosis was not very good. I was not only underfed resulting in my physical deformities, but I also had a parasite infestation on my branches. He told Mr. Swenson that I had to be relocated to a less crowded spot, and that I would require special medicine to get me back to health.

  He gave me only a 1 in 5 chance that I would survive the transplanting, and a 1 in 3 chance I would survive a year. Those were bad odds. He said, “Mr. Swenson, you should know that this tree is probability going to die within the year. Are you sure you want to even put the tree through the trauma?”

  Mr. Swenson walked over to me and looked at me for a long time. I did my best to perk up for him, and I swear he could see it because he told me, “The tree doctor tells me that you are a lost cause, but I think you have some fight left in you. What do you say, my little tree?”

  Now I was in a pickle. I am tree so I just can’t speak and say, “Don’t give up on me. I want to live to realize my lifelong dream of being a proud tree on Christmas morning.” So I did the next best thing by summoning all my energy into standing tall and proud. I swear I could feel myself stretch by an inch and feel the color coming back to my branches. Mr. Swenson noticed, too. He walked over to the tree doctor and said, “I may be crazy, but that tree looks like it grew by an inch over the last minute”. The doctor agreed that he was crazy, laughed, and said I looked the same to him. Mr. Swenson disagreed with the doctor and said that as long as there was a chance to save me, then he was going to take it because one day I would be special. He said one day, I would make a child’s Christmas.

  After that I was carefully transplanted to an awesome spot near a large track of various evergreens, and I was given medicine to help get rid of those nasty parasites. The medicine consisted of a liquid that was sprayed onto my branches. It was icky, but hey, if it was helping, I was okay with it. I would like to say the road to health was easy, but it was hard. I don’t think I would have made it had it not been for the encouragement of my best friend, an Aspen Pine, called Larry. I could always count on Larry to cheer me up anytime I was feeling ill. He would tell me, “You can do it Dougie, or that it was a piece of cake, Dougie”. Larry was always saying stuff like that. You know, come to think of it, he was the one who named me Dougie. I remember him telling me it was a perfect name since I was a Douglas fir. So in the end, I survived the transplanting, managed to shake the parasites, and made a friend. I liked this part of the farm. I liked it a lot. Life here was good.

  After a couple of years, I started to notice that there weren’t as many trees as there was when I was first planted here. I called out to Larry and said, “Larry, is it me or are there less of us each year?”

  He replied, “Well, Dougie, those trees have been harvested so that they can realize their dream of being a proud tree on Christmas morning.”

  Dougie couldn’t believe it! It was his dream to be a proud tree on Christmas morning, too. He told his friend, “Larry, this is really weird and I am sure you will not believe it, but it is my dream to be a proud Christmas tree on Christmas morning, too. How can that be?”

  Larry told Dougie that it was the dream of all the trees on the farm to be a beautifully decorated Christmas tree on Christmas morning. Dougie was mesmerized and asked Larry how long it took to be harvested. Larry told him, “Normally, 8 to 10 years here in the United States, but added that occasionally trees are harvested early because they were either ready to be Christmas trees or ready to be some other timber product, such as mulch. “Larry, what is mulch?” Dougie asked. The answer convinced Dougie that he wanted to continue to grow strong and cut down on the honeysuckle. Then it hit Dougie. He was three when Mr. Swanson purchased the farm six years ago which meant he was 9 years old. He was nearly ready for harvest.

  Dougie, Larry and the rest of the trees were harvested the following year, which surprisingly enough is this year, the same year Tommy was adopted. About a third of the trees didn’t make the trip to the tree lot, which meant they were either made into wreaths, table centerpieces, or mulch. Even though Dougie’s branches had bare spots, and his trunk tipped to one side. Mr. Swenson just couldn’t mulch Dougie after all they had been through together, so he loaded Dougie onto the trailer. Dougie could have one last escapade with his friend, Larry, never realizing the impact the little tree would have on a little boy this very Christmas Eve.

  The week on the tree lot passed very quickly. Larry was adopted right off the bat, which made perfect sense since he was a majestic Aspen pine. He would do any family proud on Christmas morning. Dougie was sad to see him go, but also very happy that he was realizing his ultimate dream. Dougie on the other hand was a small Douglas fir which tipped to one side and had a large bare spot. It did not look like Dougie was going to be adopted all. Not until that last car pulled in just before closing. Mr. Swenson greeted the family and told them that he was out of trees, but they didn’t want to hear that answer. So he told them about Dougie, but warned them that he tipped to one side and had a large bare spot. None of that mattered when the little boy saw Dougie. It didn’t matter that Dougie tipped to one side or that he had a bare spot or two. The boy was awestruck with Dougie’s magnificence, and
Dougie was standing as proud and tall as he could, just like he did when Mr. Swenson decided to save him all those years ago. The father spoke with Mr. Swenson, after which Mr. Swenson told Dougie to be a good tree as he bid his old friend farewell. He loaded the tree into the car and refused any payment for Dougie, saying something about bringing two of God’s miracles together and it being his destiny. In just a few minutes, the tree was loaded into the Edwards’ car and they were driving again. Tommy looked back at Mr. Swenson. He had refused to take any money for it. He had just kneeled in front of Tommy and said, “Merry Christmas, kid.”

  Tommy couldn’t believe it. Convinced it was a dream, he pinched himself on the arm several times during the ride home to make sure he was awake and not dreaming, but the tree was real and he was awake. He thanked God for his new parents, and Dougie the tree, each time he felt the sting of pine needle pinches or smelled the pine resin of Dougie.

  The quiet night settled on the nice neighborhood. The Edward’s car pulled into the driveway of a two-story house. His new home was beautifully decorated. The evergreens and