The Christmas Tree, Part 4: The Garland

The garland is actually Part 3, in terms of The Proper Order In Which To Put Things On Your Tree, but I got all out of order because of the digital-camera debacle. I’ve killed everyone responsible, and now it’s back to work.

But I should clarify: I’ve never actually thought of this as a “garland” before. I had to call it something to post about it here, and I realized that, technically, I supposed that’s what it was. I kind of choked on using the word a little, because in general I agree with Charlie: garland is gauche. Silver tinsel, strings of beads, stars of many sizes… tacky-o. Unless you are or have a child under the age of ten, in which case you’re allowed construction-paper rings.

But this…

…this is not really a garland. This is tradition. This is necessary. And to do without it would be unacceptable.

So, herewith, The Rules:

1. Oh my god do I even have to tell you that it’s real? The fake plastic kind should not be allowed to exist, let alone go on anybody’s tree. Period.

2. Do it yourself. If you have kids, then they can do it, in which case the rest of these rules are hereby officially relaxed. But if you buy it anywhere or pay someone to do it because you think that it’s too hard – well then, Jed, I don’t even want to know you.

3. Air-popped corn, made a day ahead and left out on the counter to get stale. Johnny does this for me. Makes it a lot easier to get the needle through. If you use oil, you will regret it in a week when your house smells like the bottom of an unwashed frying pan. And if I have to explain why you can’t use the microwaved kind, well, then happy Hanukah!

4. Black thread.

5. Fresh cranberries. Der.

6. Bigger needles are easier to thread. Smaller needles are less likely to smash popcorn kernels. You figure it out. (Hint: which of these things will you be doing more of? Right.)

7. Seams are bad. Ideally, one strand will go all the way around the tree. This isn’t always possible because you don’t have abominable snowman arms. So tie the ends together to avoid them drooping down.

8. Every strand begins and ends with a cranberry. This is not nutty, it’s actually practical advice gleaned from years of experience: popcorn can somehow work its way past the end-knot and fall off. Cranberries don’t. If you have to tie two strands together, you’ll wind up with two cranberries next to each other. This, in this one instance, is okay.

9. Otherwise: five popcorn kernels, one cranberry. Five corns, one berry. Five, one. No exceptions.

10. Cranberries go on the long way. Der.

Ta da!

Baby Jebo! I’m going to have to straighten out a couple of those strands. How did I not notice how funked-up they were before?

Oh, and:

11. At the end of the season, the tree goes in the yard with the garland and some other assorted goodies to be named later still left on. Birds and squirrels and assorted woodland creatures will be grateful for the popcorn and assorted goods. But…

12. Nobody eats the cranberries.


Next: actual, real-live ornaments! But probably not until tomorrow night. Prudence has dinner plans.