The last place that I lost my keys was in a snowy parkinglot near Gravity Hill in Abbotsford, BC. The parkinglot, which was actually more icy then snowy, was at the base of a small snowy hill near the end of a mountain plateau with hundreds of rows of small green trees. These, in all of their natural glory, were about to become firewood, woodchips, and memories. Sadly, this was to be the fate of the u-cut holiday tree.
If you live in a condo, were ever termed as a metrosexual some years ago, have a closet full of shoes, enjoy poetry without rap music, enjoy rap music, think that a trip to the country involves two bus fares, or are an over-sensitive vegetarian then you will no doubt have never encountered a real holiday tree.
The holiday trees that you are used to come in a box, are stored in a larger box, and are far more environmentally harmful then cutting down the real thing. Plus they smell like coat hangers which, unless you have some weird holiday fetish, shouldn't get you in the mood at all.
But still, it is a holiday tree. A fake, yes, but nonetheless real.