We have tree. It’s squat, very full and dark green.

I don’t think we’ve ever gotten a Christmas tree as early, or as quickly.

Maybe it was the mood of the day that started off with cleaning a closet and discovering ski boots, snow shoes (still in their original wrapping) and gloves we had looked for during winters past. We didn’t dally and reminisce. Carol sorted sweaters, coats and hats, filling a plastic bag she would later deliver to the Salvation Army. Some stuff was destined for the trash while yet more boxes, such as one filled with crockery that would get placed out front in case anyone wanted it.

It was a fast pace, all the more driven by the decision Saturday that we would look for a tree in the morning.

Saturday night’s snow also motivated us. There’s nothing like instant winter to turn your thoughts to Christmas.

“OK, let’s get the tree,” Carol announced, as she tied off a second bag of clothing and stood back to survey the closet. We now had room to stuff more things we couldn’t throw or give away. We stored it under the rationale that we might need it at one point. We have lots of things (junk?) like that. Finding it when needed is the challenge. But for now, after tackling the closet, I’m reassured to know we’ve got three sets of jumper cables, two dozen Baptist hymnals – another story – four bicycle helmets, a hammock, five canvas totes filled with an assortment of swim gear, including flippers and those bubbles that tots wear on their backs, a putter and a five-iron, two gallons of car window wash and a Coleman camp stove and mess kit (In fact, I think I’ll clip a copy of this column and tape it to the closet door so I’ll know what’s there).

After being confronted by such a display of possessions – and that’s just one closet – one might assume we would be repulsed with the prospect of bringing one more thing into the house, even a Christmas tree.

But no, Christmas trees are special. They’ve always been.

There were years when we didn’t get a tree because the kids weren’t returning for the holidays and we would be away as well. But we didn’t completely forego decorations. The banister was strung with lights. We had a wreath on the door and several strands of mini multi-colored lights hung from the cedar next to the front porch.

Yet it didn’t seem like Christmas, even the year we had a small artificial tree. In fact, I wonder what became of that? It’s bound to show up in some closet.

So we headed to West Shore Road Garden Center. Actually, we could have walked and had snow on this side of town and we could have pulled the tree on a sled. We’re that close to the Center’s ample supply for trees, wreaths and plants.

But no, we took the car and the dog. Binky wasn’t going to get a say about the tree (not the way he tags them but there was no deterring him from the ride). It was love at first sight. We both went for the fat tree leaning against the fence. There would be no need to trim the top so that it wouldn’t scrape the ceiling. Its springy branches, thick with needles, gave it a fresh look.

We weren’t the first to be in the Christmas spirit. Skip and Ellie Hull and their daughter Corrine already made a selection and were carrying it out to the pickup.

Donna Beaudry adeptly shaved an inch from the trunk, advising us to give our tree a drink of boiling water. I carried the tree to the car and slid it in next to Binky who sniffed it over. It met his approval. In five minutes, we were home.

It took somewhat longer to get the tree to stand in a pot of boiling water, and, certainly, we’ll take considerably more time decorating it. Yet, just having the tree inside, with its fresh pine scent and finding dark needles on the carpet, sets the Christmas clock. Unlike the closet clutter, the tree has a seasonal life. Our tree is, fragrant, round and amazingly green. In the past trees have been almost blue, gangly and or so tall that we had to stand on a chair to place the star.

Perhaps that is what makes a live tree appealing. They are always different. I prefer to think, however, that they are alive that makes them so endearing. They can’t be put away in a closet.

It’s this Christmas, and only this Christmas.