Four or five days before Christmas, my brothers went into the woods to find a tree. And I, as usual, tagged along.

After finding and cutting down the most beautiful cedar, we had to get it home undamaged. If we had snow, the boys pulled the tree in on our sled. If we had no snow, they had to carry the tree.

The tree went up in a corner of the front room and we then proceeded to decorate it with the trimmings we had made.

When the tree was all dressed up, we added the candles. These were perhaps 3-4 inches tall, made of softly colored wax, in a spiral design. Each candle was set firmly into a metal candle holder which clamped onto a branch of the tree.

Lighted, the candles were the crowning glory of our beautiful little tree. (Not so little, really, for it must have stood at least six feet tall.) We were allowed to light the candles, but we must always extinguish them before leaving the room, as it was far too dangerous to leave them unattended.

There were so many of us that we were afraid we would not know what had been left for whom, so we made name tags and left them under the tree for Santa to use. (I suppose the boys knew there was no Santa, but it was several years before I knew the truth.)

As the boys grew older they were busy with other things, so the task of finding, cutting, bringing in and setting up the tree fell to me -- and I was glad I'd always gone out with my brothers. My younger sister went along with me to help.

As had my brothers, we searched, compared -- and deliberated -- before finally putting hatchet to tree trunk. We varied the decorations a bit. The candles were no longer used, and strands of tinsel now replaced the wallpaper chain.

The tree stayed up until New Year's Day. Taking it down and discarding it was always such a sad occasion. Cast aside, it lay alone in the winter weather. Its rich green boughs gradually turned to a dull, dead brown. I felt sorry for it.

As I grew older, I came to realize what a shameful waste it was. And, still later, I rejoiced at the advent of plastic trees.

There have been a great many Christmas trees in my life, all beautifully decorated with loving care. But none has ever been comparable to those much-loved trees of my childhood.