Takin' Down the Christmas Tree

It took all of a minute to take down my tiny, little city tree.  I got this tree a few years ago, when I lived in downtown Washington, DC, in a neighborhood called Chinatown, 15 minutes walk from the Air and Space Museum and 5 minutes walk to the National Archives.  This tree went perfectly in my little city space.  It's an urban thing.

Here in the wilderness, this little silver tree doesn't fit in.  The tree matches my stainless steel dining room table and chrome wire racks and my silvery Peugot pepper mill.  None of this shiny city stuff matches the braided wool rug on the floor, the hewn wood mantel, or the red wood stove in this country house.  It's OK.  Eventually the vast gap between chrome and hewn wood will disappear, at least in  my mind, if not guests' minds.

I didn't hang any decorations on the tree this year, because my destructo-cats knocked this little tree down.  Every day for the last month.  It's pretty indestructible just like most of the city stuff I still have with me. It keeps getting knocked down, but the beginning of every day finds it upright again.  Just like me.