Oh Tannenbaum

I have a variety of memories associated with going to pick out a Christmas tree. At least once, the family headed out to a site that allowed customers to actually cut down their chosen tree (unless I'm making this up, which is possible). I recall little mock "Christmas Villages" set up, complete with strings of festive lights, oversized candy canes, and opportunities to take pictures with Santa. Christmas carols blaring from speakers. Cider and hot chocolate for sale. The sharp scent of pine. And against this cheerful backdrop, my brothers and I would subject each candidate to harsh scrutiny from every angle, noting any gaps in the foliage (can we put that side against the wall?) and skeptical guesses at whether this tree was too tall to fit into our living room.

What the tree-selection process in New York City lacks in romance, it makes up for in convenience. Every few blocks, I walk down the middle of a tree lot that has sprung up overnight for the Christmas season.

These lots are often accompanied by canopies, under which one can buy ornaments, stands, etc. They also offer all the pine scent you can sniff for free. But because of space constraints, the trees are, for the most part, imprisoned in tight sheaths of twine. I'm not sure whether a customer can demand to see a liberated tree to judge its shape - I have to think that after rejecting a few possibilities, the tree monger would start to get rather annoyed - so the only real feature of a tree that's readily visible is its height. And let me tell you, none of these trees would have been deemed tall enough to grace the Guadagni living room during yuletide festivities. Despite this, customers can expect to pay for their dwarfed trees about double what I remember my dad shelling out for our lofty centerpieces. More tree for your buck in Visalia. I guess you have to take what you can get around here. And while I hear lots of people complain about the price of, well, everything in Manhattan, they're all transplants. I can't recall ever seeing a native bat an eye when paying for dinner or a cab ride or an event ticket.