For many years, I expected no- demanded a real tree for Christmas. I loved the aroma of the tree. It seemed to encompass everything and everyone in the house. It was a part of my 'childhood' Christmas celebrations. I was bound and determined to give that same 'traditional' scent to my sons. That is, until they were born and began growing up - then, I had a change of heart.

Every Christmas was the same, support a local charity and receive a beautiful tree for Christmas decorating. Christmas, being the time of giving, seemed fitting of both these exchanges.

For the first couple of years-all went well. Then, I started wondering about how many trees were being 'cut' down for the holidays? How much paper would they make, if we put them all together? (Dryden is a paper mill town.) Why couldn't they be used for firewood, when they were done being pretty? How much cool, clean ,air were we removing- to have something pretty in our living rooms?

That wasn't enough though. Two of my sons enforced the considerations I was running through my mind when, they took ill at Christmas time. The first time, it could be coincidence. The second year, its getting a little spooky. The third season-thats it, this thing has got to go! I opted out for a fake tree.

The decision to have a 'fake' tree was reinforced as a good one when, on the next Christmas - we all went to my parents home to 'trim the tree'. Its one of our many traditions at this time of year. The moment I touched the tree however, I broke out. Joy to the world, a rash for Christmas.

Definitely, artificial tree recommended from now to the end of time - for both our homes. My mother later developed an allergy also.

Learn more about this author, Francesca Collins.
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