SUBSCRIBE VIA RSSRemember when I dragged my family through acres of Christmas trees in my quest to find the perfect addition to our holiday home? Remember the love and affection I had for our beloved tree and the personal attachment I forged after hours of sawing, forcing, and bending its way into place? And remember how I embraced the tree in an almost pervish way before releasing its limbs in true Christmas glory?
Well, today, I’m sorry to report that we have lost the beloved Treemaximus.
Treemaximus. The blue spruce that heaven produced.
Perhaps if I had just unpacked and repacked a box of fringed pipe cleaners I wouldn’t have been so attached. But Treemaximus and I had a special bond.
Where everyone else saw problems and size issues, I saw holiday glory. Blinded by its undeniable beauty, I ignored logic and proudly pushed, pulled, and dragged Treemaximus through our front door. Once in place and decorated, its pine-fresh aroma fused with the aura of ornaments and lights to fill the room with holiday charm.
When you put this much effort into something and share an almost hyperbolic love for it, it’s hard to let go. It’s hard to say goodbye. How do you know when it’s the right time to box up the ornaments and pay respects for a holiday tradition well done? December 26th? January 1st? “When,” I would ask, “WHEN?”
Well, now I know. And I’d like to share this little Christmas tree disposal tip with all of you.
When your tree begins to smell like putrid death? It’s time.
When Treemaximus first entered our home, it was a giant air freshener. If you can imagine 3,000 cardboard-cutout Christmas trees dangling from your rearview mirror, that’s what it was like. But by the time we extricated Treemaximus to the curb, it smelled more like 3,000 dangling corpses.
I’m not a tree guy, so all of you Arborists can tell me if I’m wrong, but I believe trees of this size develop lungs, veins, and internal organs. I say this because something had to die a slow death for it to smell this badly. This wasn’t old sap and wood. It was rotted flesh.
It wasn’t so bad when the tree was upright. We only noticed the smell when we went to add more water to the tree stand, and that’s when we knew its time had come. I had no idea trees even possessed this ability, but be forewarned. When you tilt a rotting tree on its side to remove it from a tree stand, its defense mechanisms will kick in and unload a stench like a threatened zombified skunk.
It. Was. Awful.
And in one final act of defiance, Treemaximus left behind an oozy trail of tree slime and roughly 90,000 petrified pine needles on our floors that were sharp enough to impale feet through socks.
As though a pine-scented thorny slug had slithered its way through our home.
On the upside, our floors are nice and shiny. On the downside, the sheen is the result of tree death.
It took a heavy dose of bleach and wood floor cleaner to at least mask the smell but the pungent stench still punches you right in the face when you enter our foyer. Then it clubs your nostrils and coats your sinuses before finally coming to rest in the long-term memory regions of the brain.
I’m not expecting company, but if a CSI team were to make a surprise visit, their departure would soon be followed by a search warrant.
Perhaps there’s something to be said for artificial trees after all. While you miss out on the thrill of the hunt and the personal satisfaction of cutting down your own tree, I could at least try and replicate the pine aroma by using some of these as ornaments:
They even come ready to hang!
Treemaximus, you served us well. You made our holidays brighter and our home more cozy. You were the epitome of pine-scented eye candy and your presence would have made Normal Rockwell cry.
But alas, you smelled like death. And as much as I wanted to keep you, I want to keep my wife even more, so I had no choice but to kick you to the curb.
Go forth, ye old sapling, and know that your beauty has set the bar high for all of those who may follow.
With apologies to our neighborhood.
Goodbye, Treemaximus. You will never be forgotten.
Here's proof.
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{ 20 comments… read them below or add one }
I would assume that smell came from the water just sitting in the tree stand and not actually going up into the tree…next year, always water it with warm water (the warm water sorta melts the sap that forms over the stump of the tree) and every few days mix a little sugar into that water to ‘feed’ the tree…..once I started doing this, we NEVER had any nasty smelling tree bottom to deal with!
Happy New Year!
Yikes! Ok, so maybe I’m glad to have my tiny plastic & prelit tree this year. That’s a LOT of pine needles! Ouch!
meg´s last post…Who doesn’t love kitties?
awww
RIP Maximus!
It is when I read stories like this that a breath a sigh of relief that my SO is a fake tree person like myself. lol
No offense intended Greg.
Another reason to embrace the fake tree! (Number 1 reason — making it through the holidays healthy. Real tree = real allergies for me. Husband learned early on that he could have a tree or he could have a healthy wife.)
As fabulous as the wood chipper will be for Treemaximus, you could also put him in the backyard, laying down. Dump a couple of cups of birdseed on him and the birds will come and find shelter and food in Treemaximus. With that, he can still ask “Are you not entertained?!”
WG
WilyGuy´s last post…Power Tools, Relationships, and Soulmates
I’ve always had real trees and never had a problem with it stinking. Are you sure there wasn’t a deceased squirrel in the branches?
I’m with Karen. I’ve always had real trees and never, in nearly 40 years, have I had one that smelled bad. And I always keep mine up at least a couple of weeks. Perhaps there was a dead mouse or something in there. They stink disproportionately.
Ours went to the curb today, but it was a giant air freshener to the end.
We always get a Balsam and they’ve never smelled anything but great !
I’m just jealous that you can nonchalantly toss it to the curb and be done with it. We live in a townhome, run by a Townhome Association that runs a tight ship. We have ONE day to put our tree out for pick-up, and it is usually the day after New Year’s Day. We NEVER get it out on time. See, at 34 and 35 years old we still drink like 21 year olds every New Year’s Eve, which given our age results in at LEAST a week recovery time. We can barely fill our coffee cups on January 2nd, let alone un-tree the tree and drag it out. So then what happens is around January 14th or so we realize that, hey, the tree is still up, and hey, we haven’t watered it since about December 17th, and hey, it’s bald. So then we toss it out on the deck since we don’t know what else to do with it. There it rests, sometimes with lights still on it, until around March 2nd when we get the letter from The Association which says something like “Look, you lazy bastards, take that eyesore off your deck before we charge you $200 for removal.” It then gets dragged into our garage where it rests until late October when we go to my husband’s family cabin in International Falls, MN. Then we burn it. About a month later, we buy another one and start over.
It’s possible that we were separated at birth.
It never smells, though. So, there’s that.
Greg, you are unique. I have never, in all my years — even when we didn’t take the tree down until late February — had a Christmas tree smell like death.
I think, much like The Free Range Stupid are attracted to me like like flies on — you know what — oddities of flora and fauna are similarly attracted to you.
Poor Heather. LOL
Shan @ Last Shreds Of Sanity´s last post…The Diva’s Letter To Santa
Really, you had such a fabulous tree. After we take ours down each year, they go to my friend’s place in the country and they burn it in an enormous bonfire. My puny little trees usually flare 30 feet, but yours would light the whole damn world. RIP TM.
RIP Treemaximus…… I never had a stinky tree either, but the mess left behind was just like yours. Thankfully we only had to drag the tree about 15 feet to the front door. Every year my husband complains about finding needles in the house months later.
After a prolonged power failure one time, we had a bad smell coming from the fridge, even though we’d thrown out all the spoiled food in it. I tried everything–scrubbed out the fridge and freezer with detergent, bleach, baking soda, put bowls of coffee grounds in it (learned that from the internet), everything. Nothing helped. As the days went on, it smelled the way you’re describing poor Tree Maximus–like decomposing flesh. We were at the point of almost throwing out the refrigerator,when in a last-ditch attempt to save it, and save ourselves from having to buy a new one, we practically dismantled the thing, and found a tiny bit of rancid meat juice that had dripped down. Cleaned that up, and presto, suddenly the mysterious corpse smell was gone. Five years later, the fridge is still around and smells perfect!
We’ve had many real trees, including our own version of tree maximus this year, and none have ever smelled anything but pleasant. All of them no matter what the size leave thousands of needles tough.
You could plant it in your yard. My neighbors did that when I was growing up and their tree actually took root and grew:)
I know exactly the feeling. Pine needles everywhere!
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Goodbye old friend. You served him well.
~Naila Moon
Naila Moon´s last post…Saturday Snaps Jan. 1-5, 2013