Rooted and Booted

(Reproduction of a bit of writing first done in November 2011)

It has done very well to survive.

I am thrilled to report that I will go down the garden in the next couple of days to check on the health, welfare and beauty of the only Christmas Tree that I have managed to keep alive for more than  the festive period.

This will be the third year that the tree will stand on the shallow balcony at the front of the house.

Unprecedented. I have however had many concerns over the period from when we first purchased the small Fir for £29.99 from the local garden centre.

The purchase and display of a real and live Christmas Tree is not itself an issue. What does tend to throw my whole budget out on the approach to Christmas is the extortionate price charged for a tree. It is a captive market.

Any deemed failure on the acquisition of a decent tree is a failure in manhood, fatherhood and husbandry.

We do have an indoor real tree and my son has developed an expert eye to pick out a perfectly formed and symmetrical example of the exact height and girth for its traditional position in the lounge bay.

The smaller balcony tree is another issue but just as vitally important.

In the past we went for just a straightforward un-rooted one. This just about lasted until the Twelfth Day before being cast down onto the front path to be set aside for shredding and stripping.

My wife was both shocked and amused at my collection of many years worth of skeletal and almost petrified former balcony trees which emerged from under the mass of the compost heap and from behind the garage during a recent blitz to tidy up the back garden.

Perhaps I had formed an emotional attachment and kept the remnants out of shame for their eventual undignified fate.

The small tree bought in 2009 was as they say 'rooted and booted.'. It was wrapped in a string bag which was ceremoniously cut away as soon as the tree and root ball were packed tight and watered in the old fire bucket up on the balcony. Being considerate for the diminuitive stature of the tree it was stood on a low table. From the street the tree now appeared to be a towering 5 feet tall. The balcony rail concealed the support structure very nicely. Remarkably, and without any additional watering the tree looked good and healthy throughout the period.

The micro-climate on the balcony will, on reflection, have been ideal. Sheltered from direct cold and frost, dry but airy. The boughs and needles were still beautifully green and supple. I whisked the tree down to the bottom of the garden and purely as a biological and horticultural experiment re-planted it in the soil.

Out of sight I did forget about it for some weeks. On a rare visit to the far reaches of the garden I noticed fresh bright green accelerated growths. It was thriving. I moved it a couple of times in the first 12 months after it looked a bit sun scorched or swamped by the native vegetation. The soil in the garden is a heavy clay not really of the free draining and light characteristics that the genetics of the tree are geared up for.

The tree took up residency back on the balcony for Christmas 2010. From November to well into January the average daily temperature did not get much above minus 2 to 4 degrees. Exposed trees and the garden hedge suffered very badly from the sheer weight of snow and ice and the upper parts became blackened in the foliage equivalent of frost bite.

Many of the plants out in the open perished. The small tree will have witnessed all this from the recess of the balcony but remained snug and healthy. I replanted it again. The mild spring weather was  good for recuperation but in the summer months  it looked to be wilting. The buddleia tree behind which I had planted the fir had swamped and stifled it more than I had anticipated. It was touch and go for a while but the patient responded to emergency watering and some kind words of inspiration.

So, it is now the tail end of November 2011. The anticipated return of the tree to contribute to the celebration of Christmas is very satisfying and poignant. We as a family have been through some difficult times in the three years since we adopted the tree but it has been a constant ,whether bedecked in lights, tinsel and atopped with a star or just blending in , with ultimate camouflage , at the bottom of the garden.

Our house is currently up for sale but when we move on I will find the discarded fire bucket and the tree will accompany us to wherever we next put down our own roots.

(nb. we did eventually move house. The tree we left behind)