Country Blog of an English Gentlewoman: The Cultivation of Christmas Trees

I’ve just enjoyed my annual treat of buying the Christmas tree. A bit early for me, but apparently only just in time.

Every year I go to the same place, and unpromising-looking modern bungalow i

n the middle of nowhere, with a hand-painted hardboard ‘Xmas trees and wreaths’ sign out the front. Beside the bungalow is a yard full of newly cut trees. You can tell they’re newly cut because, if none of them appeals, a handsome young man in overalls leads you into the adjoining field where (disappointingly) he simply invites you to select a growing one to be chopped down specially. It’s a bit like choosing your lobster from a tank in a seafood restaurant – the same sense of absolute power over life and death, but less gruesome and you don’t need claw crackers.

This year, however, they’re talking about closing down well before C

hristmas. They’ve run out of trees.

‘What do you mean?’ I ask, pointing to a field simply stuffed with Christmas trees.

But these, apparently, are next year’s trees, not yet ready for harvesting. It takes around 6 years to grow a 5’ to 7’ tree – the size people want. 3 years ago there was a run of dry summers, which are just beginning to hit this season’s yield.

‘See those trees there?’ the farmer indicated a sad-looking row of hefty sawn-off pines ‘We’re having cut the tops off and use them, just to have something to sell’

I got lucky and found a prime specimen – a bit too prime, to be honest, being a good 8’ tall with skirts so wide that, once installed in our substantial hall, it may well no longer be possible to use the stairs. But it’s Christmas, and you have to be ready to make sacrifices.

The farmer pushed my tree through a wonderful gadget which enveloped it tightl

y in plastic mesh. He inserted it, thus tamed, into my hatchback, where it nuzzled my ear and blocked my left-side view for the journey home.

Soon, I will be draping festive silver and gold ktinsel all over it to the sound of Carols from Kings College Cambridge on the CD player, whilst the children huddle Scrooge -like before the PS3, complaining about the racket.

Incidentally, the debate about whether real or artificial trees are most environmentally –friendly seems to have been settled – so my tree is also guilt-free.