I’m having an amber Christmas

Let’s see where this Christmas story begins. Oh, yes. Now, I remember. It started with my godmother, Mary Nell, who was shopping with me back in the summer.

“I found you a Christmas tree,” she said, sidling up to me while I selected place mats. I wasn’t looking for a Christmas tree. Especially in July.

Still, obediently, I followed her to the Christmas department of the store where she stopped and smilingly swept her hand toward a huge, amber-colored silk tree covered in lights and decorated stunningly.

Immediately, I knew it was perfect for my two-story foyer that is painted the color of a luscious, baked yam. The tree is a soft, gentle color that some people, wrongly, persist in calling orange. It is indisputably amber. Amber.

I was paying for it when I was suddenly struck with buyer’s remorse. I realized that a large brand new amber-colored tree would require all new ornaments. Lots of them. Too much shopping and too much money to my liking but I was committed so I plunged forward.

This is how I came to have three Christmas trees, tripling my former contribution to the Christmas spirit. I have built quite a collection of wonderful, sparkling iridescent white, clear and silver ornaments, which drip gorgeously from a tree’s limbs. So, I put a tree in my bedroom using those decorations, added a glistening green foil one in the corner of the kitchen and suddenly I, who had always believed that one tree was enough, had a trinity of trees.

For decorating the new one, I called in my sister, Louise, who puts up – and I am not making this up – eight Christmas trees in her house. She also has an exact antique replica of the sleigh used in that famous Currier and Ives print. In other words, she is the CEO of Christmas in our family.

She loves to design Christmas trees so I opened the gilded holly cage and let her at it.

“Just wait until you see the diva tree I designed for you,” she promised.

When she had finished, my new tree was covered – and it is stunning – with glitter, baubles, bows, flowers, feathers and two long, flowing pieces of orange, sparkle-flecked fabric that are tucked in and puffed down the tree.

It is, admittedly, a masterpiece. It should be in a magazine.

“This is Halloween fabric that I got for 60 percent off,” Louise said proudly.

I rolled my eyes. “Great. I’ve got a Halloween Christmas tree.”

“But isn’t it beautiful?” she asked admiringly.

“When my mom told me you had an orange Christmas tree, I couldn’t imagine what it would look like,” said young Haley a few days later. “But it’s so pretty.”

I cut my eyes over at her mom, Patti. “Don’t be telling people that I have an orange Christmas tree. It’s amber.”

“I’ve never seen a bronze Christmas tree,” opined Mike when he came by to help me hang a picture.

“It’s not bronze. It’s amber,” I corrected him.

“Oh.”

When he got ready to leave, he turned and took one last look at the sparkling masterpiece.

“Now what color did you call that?”

“Amber.”

He shrugged and left.

When my brother-in-law saw it, he remarked, “That’s a real pretty orange Christmas tree.”

“It’s amber.”

There’s two big problems with this tree, though. First, I don’t know how I’m going to take it apart to put it away. It looks complicated. The other is that I will never be able to duplicate Louise’s perfection next year.

But at least for this year, I have a beautiful, amber – not orange, mind you – tree draped in Halloween fabric. I never dreamed of such.

Of course, I never dreamed that I’d have three Christmas trees either. Which mean that dreams do come true.

So now I’m dreaming that Louise will return next year and, again, put up my amber-colored tree.