We battled over getting a tree. Not with each other; with our consciences.

As someone who has had a recycled cardboard tree for the last few years (thank you, Muji), and whose mother habitually festoons decorations on random house plants, I have some fundamental misgivings about Christmas trees. That is, real trees, rather than misgivings about Christmas trees as a concept. There’s more on the annual chopping down living things for no good reason issue here.

However. If you’ve decided to get one, there are some fundamental issues to consider. Real vs Fake. Size. Cost. In a lot of ways, getting a Christmas tree is a lot like getting breast implants.

Not.

Real Christmas trees - Pros:

1. Help you feel Christmassy
2. Smell nice
3. Natural
4. Good kindling

Real Christmas trees - Cons:

1. Drop needles on the floor as soon as you look at them
2. prickly to decorate
3. Wasteful, as they only last a little while and need to be flung out if you don’t have a fire
4. Expensive
5. Hellish to carry home

Fake Christmas trees - Pros

1. Don’t drop needles everywhere

Fake Christmas trees - Cons:

1. Need to store them somewhere for 11 months of the year
2. Generally look awful
3. Expensive
4. Difficult to carry home
5. Hard to find a smallish, dull type - all seem to be white fur and spangles

So we had all-but-decided not to bother when I spotted a mini tree in a pot. Genius. We can enjoy the tree, then keep it potted in the back garden until next year. It doesn’t die, and we (well, I) get to feel semi-virtuous.

When I say mini, I mean mini. Probably a foot tall, in all. So small that it is dwarfed by usual baubles and decorations. We had to get special mini baubles for it. So diminuative that it simply cannot be festooned with tinsel, because it would vanish. This is, in my eyes, a good thing.

We set it up on the coffee table in the corner, and placed a lamp in front of it, to illuminate its tiny twigs and bouncing baby baubles. The desklamp casts a giant shadow up the wall, almost twice the size of the original. The shadow of the tiny tree looms darkly, in semi-focus, over our presents.

Update, months later:
The tree lasted until March and then suddenly, inexplicably, gave up the ghost (and the majority of its needles) and expired. Poor thing.