Mystery Tree

Our first Christmas in California was in 1998, and as we prepared to shop for a tree, it rained and it rained. Rain ran in rivulets down the car windows, and as we drove up to the sodden tree lot, our spirits sank. We squelched past tree after tree, disheartened at the thought of all those dripping pine needles on the car, on the walkway, and in the house.

Then we had a brilliant idea. (Whose brilliant idea? I think it struck all of us at once, like a bolt from the stormy skies.) Why not get one of those trees piled up in the corner, the ones still tied up like furled umbrellas, not yet exposed to the elements or the poking and prodding of previous tree-shoppers? It would be easy to handle and drier than most, and we'd be on our way in no time.

The tree salesman was confused but game, and after we selected one of the appropriate height and variety, he dutifully sawed off the end and hoisted it up to the top of the car. We drove home in nervous anticipation. What had we done? Is it legal to take a tree without looking at it first? Would the Christmas police come and arrest us for not giving the tree selection process its required allotment of time? Nobody stopped us, so we arrived home without incident.

A trussed-up tree is much easier to carry than one with loose limbs flapping all around, the boys discovered. It was easier to hold the tree still and hammer on the base as well. We held our collective breath as the tree was positioned next to the double doors, and then the string was cut. With a massive unfurling, the tree sprang into shape, full and beautiful and, to our uncritical eyes, perfect.

We rejoiced in the success of our experiment and resolved to do it every year. From that day forward, no more weighing the pros and cons of picked-over trees. No more battles over whose favorite is most desirable. Each year, our mystery tree maintains its anonymity until it is bought, paid for, and unveiled in the house. We haven't chosen a bad one yet, possibly because the wrapped ones haven't been manhandled as much, or cherry-picked. It has become one of our favorite Christmas traditions.

Why don't more people do this? It's a mystery to us.