Has a name, and that name is Herbert. Yes, we name our Christmas trees and our trash can (Seymour) and our alarm clocks (the late Norman and Deborah) and our pink glitter reindeer (Jermaine). We've named every Christmas tree we've had, but I have a really hard time remembering their names from year to year (heartless, I know). My firs inclination is always to name each one Frederick. Unfortunately we've already had a Frederick and a Franklin and maybe a Hans? After that it gets foggy. Poor Herbert, the latest in a line of noble firs whose names I have forgotten.
Herbert came to us from a tree farm out in Maryland one snowy day a few weeks back. Although we were soaked by the time we got him in the car - it was an appropriately Christmasy outing.
Once home we decorated the rather plump Herbert to an appropriate soundtrack of Amy Grant, Bela Fleck and our new favorite, Sufjan Steven's Songs for Christmas.
When we head out to Washington this week we won't be taking Herbert down - I know the words "fire hazard" and "crispy critter" have been tossed around, but dismantling him in all of his glory would be a shame. So we'll fill his tank to the brim, unplug the lights and brace ourselves for several hours of vacuuming when we return.
