Have a Prickly, Painful Christmas

We find our Christmas tree at a florist on Rue Monge, in the 5th arrondissement, on our way from school to dance class. The saleslady discusses the merits of the various species -- both new to me: Nordmann fir which stays green and doesn't shed even though it's been chopped at the trunk and nailed to a half-log, or Epicéa which will perfume the apartment with that pine smell but will shed unless watered. It does come with some of its roots in a pot, so watering seems easy enough, and besides, we all agree, Christmas is only two weeks away. No matter which we choose, our tree will be green for the big day.

The trees come in ranges, ours in the 1.75-2m range. Both species -- and all Christmas trees anywhere in Paris -- are bunched down at the bottom, with a single long branch sticking up at the top for the measurement. It's cheating of course, like counting the radio tower on top of the Empire State Building for its total height. The Epicéa seem to be fuller to a higher point on the tree, which is nice for our high ceilings. And the lady tells me they are fatter, bunchier, and have fewer bald spots than the Nordmanns. We can't gauge that for ourselves because the trees are all bundled up in netting, however. Weighing the pros and cons, we opt for the Epicéa.

The tree, with delivery straight to our apartment, is about 60€, or $80-90, which is not bad at all. What is bad is the tree itself. It looks beautiful (if a little tilted), but the problem is that it is so prickly, it is virtually impossibly to handle. It's hard to even put the ornaments on. This is the pine that lets you know why the leaves are called "needles." Watering it turns out to be like trying to pet a porcupine.

Next year, we go Nordmann. In the meantime, our apartment smells Christmassy, and it looks good. I'm just dreading having to haul it outside when Christmas is over.