The sight of a Christmas tree, all dressed up and looking out at its relative rooted in soil and decorated with natural snow feels my heart with non-festive sadness. I know it is silly but I can’t help it. The other tree is free to roam if it could roam. Which it can’t (thank God! otherwise they would all bugger off leaving me to contemplate endless snow-covered fields of rural Bedfordhsire). The tree outside is alive, and the one held in an upright position by a base clamp is … barely alive, loosing needles, poor little thing.

On the other hand, think cut flowers. Hm.

A festive evergreen is an ancient idea. Evergreen palm-tree fronds to celebrate the return of Ra after the winter solstice in Egypt; ancient Roman’s Saturnalia in honour of Saturn (who else) to mark a similar event in a similar way with a similar meaning (boughs of greenery). Closer to home, the Scandinavians’ evergreen boughs to celebrate the return of Baldr, also the sun god (had they read an Egyptian glossy magazine with Ra on the cover?). Yes, one has an irresistible urge to latch on something green after one’s eyes have been dazzled with the seemingly perpetual white for weeks and months — we all understand.

The idea of a Christian (Christmas) tree is profoundly Germanic. Opinions may vary, but Britannica seems certain that it goes back to around A.D. 723 when St.Boniface, an English missionary, saw some pagans in Germany worship an oak in the name of the god Thor. Boniface hewed the tree and, when the locals realised he had not been struck by a lightning, the missionary pointed them at a nearby fir and exclaimed: “That is your holy tree!” Whether this is a myth or not, Germans did indeed decorate fir-trees to celebrate the birth of Christ in the Middle Ages. And as they migrated to other countries, they took the idea of Christmas tree with them.

In England (where the monarchy had been half-German or worse for generations) the idea stuck and grew in popularity. Queen Victoria and her consort, Albert, popularised the Christmas tree to the extent that in 1848 it made its way to a London newspaper in an illustration of the royal family gathering around a decorated evergreen for their festivities.

Naturally, due to a large number of German immigrants to the US, the Xmas plant tried to take root there as well. Initially it caused friction with the Puritans, many of whom saw the decorated evergreen as a pagan idol. In Massachusetts the Christmas tree was initially outlawed. The prohibition was eventually lifted, but it was as late as the 1830s. In 1850, the aforementioned 1848 illustration of Queen Victoria’s family was reprinted in Godey’s Lady’s Book in the US. Another endearing touch: they made the royals look more American. Well done!

(I remember once seeing a bust of Lenin in Tashkent Central Square, Uzbekistan: Lenin looked quite an Uzbek to me — and I wasn’t even surprised.)

Naturally the Americans have been buying their pines and firs every Xmas ever since.

It’s Christmas Eve today and the snow has melted. I leave you with a simple and poignant poem written by Ivan Turgenev, one of the 19th century’s well known Russian novelists (much less known as a poet). It is only 12 lines, but as it often happens with poetry, they say it all. Here’s my translation:

Fog in the morning, a cold hoary morning,
Farmlands forlorn and covered in snow,
Years that have passed, which you can’t help recalling,
Faces forgotten a long time ago…

Summons so plentiful, so full of passion,
Glances so keenly, so shyly awaited,
Moments of happiness: first ones and last ones,
A cherished voice now subdued and abated.

Strangely you smile when recalling being parted,
Casting your mind back to things dear and distant,
Heeding the cart wheels’ monotonous grumble,
Musing on heavens, so broad and so wistful…

Merry Xmas to you, wherever you are, and peace to all.