For the first time in my life I felt like a cross between Martha Stewart and Dinah Shore–but only because being dressed for my day at the office left me ridiculously overdressed for the chore of taking down the rest of the tree at the Pink Palace and then carting it and loading it into the car.
Next year I will check the classifieds in the Flyer and see if there are any young fellows looking for roadie work. When they and their brides celebrate their first Christmas they will either know how to be a helpful and exemplary husband–or they will know that they should schedule a road trip with the band the weekend the tree comes down.
It was interesting to me to see just how many decorations that had been roosting in
the peacock tree along with the feathers. When I decorate a tree, it is sort of like painting. You don’t squeeze out “X” amount of burnt sienna, and “X” amount of cadmium yellow, and say, “There, that oughta do it.”
Instead, you add and even subtract, although I am not known for my skills of subtraction, choosing to specialize in addition and multiplying, instead.
The first thing we did was to pluck the tree of its feathers and stack them up–they had been the last thing that I had added to the tree. And then the glass peacock figurines were removed.
Next, to neaten things up, we pulled out the fern fronds that
had simulated a feather shape in flora form. To me, this was the neatest part of the tree. I find the element of repetition such a comforting element of design. Perhaps I find it comforting because it is innately familiar. Or maybe it is because it is one of the first elements that we focus on as infants and toddlers. My own children loved all of their
“shape” toys and games.
Next we pulled out all of the golden feathers. They represented the glittery, fanciful rendering of the natural feathers–as they are interpreted in the imagination.
Next I pulled out the garlands of pear-shaped faceted jewels that were dripping from the branches in the colors of turquoise and peridot. They were on the tree to add sparkle and to reflect light. They are a bear to keep untangled because the plastic fishing line they are on wants to twirl around the gemstones. To pack these little babies up, you should lay them on a width of tissue
paper, then fold the paper over that segment, and lay down the next portion, then fold the tissue over it, and so on until the entire length is wrapped. Then just fold in half, and in half again.
I’ve decided to dispense with boxes for the balls, and just separate them by color and tissue paper in extra large unzipped, ziplock bags in big plastic bins. They will take up less space, and for no more oogiedeeboogiedee than they go through, they will be fine.
Next we pulled out the peridot colored, metallic poinsettias that had added some shine within the tree (you could barely see them) and the drab
green Spanish moss (that you barely noticed) that had added texture and hid the thin or vacant areas of the somewhat shape-challenged tree.
Another part of the tree that I had been quite carried away with was the peacock feet at the base of the tree. Granted, no one but myself would have said, “Oh look! The tree has feet!” But to me it did.
Bird feet are fascinating. Think about it! Those tiny little bony feet are very strong. And they look so peculiar, although I am sure only to us. But they do have that “my primordial grandpappy was a reptile” mystique going on.
The fabric around the base of the trunk (and under the bony green feet) represented a nest of sorts, and was a matte gold satin taffeta and a tarnished gold tulle.
Twined throughout the tree was my favorite ivy–I’ve had it
for years, and a always amazed at how nicely its gossamer leaves work into a design. It looks beautiful with light shining on and through its faintly shimmering leaves. It’s one of those items that you wind up kicking yourself for not buying more of later on when you wish you had more.
As you could see from the before and after photos above, it is sometimes mandatory to re-create a more fulsome shape in a tree that has a less than desirable figure. Since there are no foundation garments made for trees, that means artful stuffing is called for. In addition to the ivy, the Spanish moss and the fern fronds, I
also used lacy asparagus fern that resembled downy feathers within the tree.
Up top, I simply created an arrangement that featured a bold peridot fiddle head fern and longer peacock feathers. I liked using the various ferns because they reminded me of the woods where the tree might have grown–and as I said, the shape of the fern fronds reminded me of bird feathers.
Finally it was time to take the lights off–after all, first thing
on, last thing off, although it certainly was easier to take them off. I stood in one spot and pulled them off while the tree spun around and around like a top. There were two types of lights. Most of them were little round faceted bulbs and a small number were shaped like venetian glass flowers and changed hues from dark blues to emerald green and back again.
I have to say I was not charmed by the LED lights. I thought they were a little harsh, but the Peacock Tree was wearing so much finery, it did not matter, you could hardly see them, and the blue lights that gradually turned emerald green were the real showstoppers.
Well, whew. That’s the sum of it. And to me, the Peacock Tree will always be greater than the sum of its many parts. It will be a sweet memory to me, and I hope to the children and their parents who visited the Le Bonheur Enchanted Forest and Festival of Trees this year.