O Christmas Tree

We have a Christmas tree in the Fibro. Your basic pine tree, of the species Plasticus Fantasticus. It lies dormant in a box under the bed, awaiting it's annual chance to (literally) shine.

This year, we also have a Christmas tree outside the Fibro. More a bush, really. A dead bush to be precise. It used to be a magnificent Portwine Magnolia shrub. Then the July rains came and it drowned, dropping branches and leaves from the base up in a desperate attempt at life.

Despite our best efforts, it could not be resuscitated. But neither have we worked out what to do with it, or the space it would leave behind if we remove it. So it remains. Twiggy. Lifeless. Starkly beautiful in its own special way, as the spiders weave their magic and decorate the sticks with webs, which glisten in the sunlight and in the rain. Leaves are redundant, really.

These days, however, it stands a little taller, decked out in holiday finery of baubles and glass balls. It is surprising how much pleasure I get out of looking at it. The boys whizz past it on their scooters, barely allowing it a glance. I can see it from my study window, watching the different play of light on the sparkly baubles as the sun progresses overhead.

I wonder if it will still be there next year. Perhaps it will spontaneously burst back into life, new growth speckling its bare limbs. Now that would be a Christmas miracle.

Do you have a real tree or a plastic specimen? Any baubles bedecking your backyard? Or perhaps you prefer a light display?

Rockin' around the Christmas tree

I'm not sure if I have mentioned this before, but my mum has a wicked eye for the whimsical. She has a clock that plays show tunes. She has a tiny violin that fiddles Irish folk tunes. She has a stuffed hound dog that sings Elvis tunes. She has an Elmo dressed in a chicken suit, a plastic gnome that belts out rock tunes, a fat little chef who sings opera.

The kids love it. Mr3 loves it so much that he has begun siphoning off the collection, bringing it home to the Fibro for 'visits' (Mum, Chicken Dance Elmo is coming home real soon). Me, I always been fairly ambivalent about the whole scene.

This year, however, I am a convert. A couple of years ago, Mum bestowed upon Fam Fibro a small green Christmas tree that lights up like the proverbial Christmas tree and sings 'Rockin' around the Christmas tree' extremely loudly. When we got it, I think we smiled politely and put it on the shelf. Last year, it made it to the top of the sideboard and was brought down on request. This year...

This year, that Christmas tree owns Christmas. Mr3 is besotted. He sits it up next to him on the sofa when he watches tele, just in case he feels like pressing the button. He presses the button and all hell breaks loose, with Mr6 shrieking that he can't hear himself think and Mr3 dancing around the living room like nobody's watching. But we are. We're all watching.

Tonight, we decorated the Christmas tree. As we twined the tinsel, hung the tinkling, twinkling lights and debated the correct positioning of each gold bauble, our Rockin' Christmas tree serenaded us. As The Builder and I remembered each of the 'special decorations' we'd bought  ("remember this one? Blue Mountains... the little blue angel, must be Holland...the silver heart that J gave us"), Mr3 pressed 'play' over and over again.

By the time we put up this year's new addition - a pure white ceramic dove wearing a silver crown - we were all belting out the chorus and Mr6 was playing along on his guitar.

Only 19 more days until Christmas. So I should only hear that song about 786 more times. Either that, or the batteries will magically run out in about 24 hours. I'll keep you posted.

Do you have a special family Christmas song? Do you collect 'special' decorations? Do you, perchance, have a novelty singing Christmas tree in your own life?


[image: shopgadgetsandgizmos.com]

I'm guest posting with Heath at ColesOnline today - come and share the story of your latest crush. Mine is small, green and crispy. Really.