When I was a kid, we had a wartime artificial tree. It was a large dowel rod, wrapped in brown tape, with wire branches stuck into the tape. The branches resembled those “bottle brush” trees you see in craft stores, but obviously much larger. At one time, the branches had been dark green with they had faded to chartreuse. My dad would pull it out of the tube, thunck the bottom on the floor, and all of the branches would swivel and open up. When Christmas was over, he’d thunck the top on the floor and the branches would fold back against the trunk, and he’d slide it back into the tube and roll it under the bed.
“They don’t make ’em like that anymore.”
When I was a kid, we had a wartime artificial tree. It was a large dowel rod, wrapped in brown tape, with wire branches stuck into the tape. The branches resembled those “bottle brush” trees you see in craft stores, but obviously much larger. At one time, the branches had been dark green with they had faded to chartreuse. My dad would pull it out of the tube, thunck the bottom on the floor, and all of the branches would swivel and open up. When Christmas was over, he’d thunck the top on the floor and the branches would fold back against the trunk, and he’d slide it back into the tube and roll it under the bed.
Never saw another one like it.