It wasn't exactly intentional... it just happened...
When we left Oamaru, we left behind our beautiful tree — full, thick, glistening green, the finest tree we’d ever seen. She was a marvel. So, upon arriving in Melbourne, we went hunting for a worthy successor. And goodness, did we find her: seven feet tall, lush to the floor, entirely majestic. That was Year One.
Year Two surprised us. Our front window begged for something minimal and luminous — a quiet silhouette of Christmas for the walkers passing by. So we stripped things back: golden lights, a few ceramic decorations, the sort of simplicity that glows rather than shouts. But then we realised… we missed having a family tree. A tree with memories dangling from its branches. A tree for the presents. So we added a second: a pre-lit pine, understated but quietly glorious. And thus, Tree Two was born.
This year — Year Three — well, we have three Christmas trees. It feels a little greedy on paper, but in practice it unfolded quite naturally.
In our new home, the fullest tree now stands in the lounge: it's distictly traditional with it's golden glow and adorned with years of collected ornaments. This tree is tradition. It’s comfort. It’s the familiar rhythm of December that makes the season feel like home. She is, tuly, a sight to behold.
Our second tree — the family one — sits in the central living area, the gathering place for presents and the hum of daily life. This one is our smallest but filled with meaning. This tree is adorned with the hand-made. Simple decorations, a few favourite keepsakes, and a gentle string of lights. It’s quiet and reflective, a place for pause amid the rush of the season. This tree is wonder. It invites stillness and gratitude, a reminder that Christmas is as much about presence as it is about presents.
And then, the third.
The entryway of our new home had a perfect spot — a spot destined for a large indoor plant (once we decide what on earth we’re buying). For December, it simply cried out for a tree. So we hunted through the marketplace and found a beauty… though Thistle was lamenting that it needed to be taller (the ceilings are unapologetically lofty). Fern, ever resourceful, grabbed a sparkly mini-tree and tied it to the top — and with a single glittery flourish, the Tree of Whimsy was born: a riot of colours and textures! Bright ribbons, playful ornaments, and sparkly lights. This tree is joy. It’s laughter, curiosity, and a little bit of chaos — the part of Christmas that reminds us to lean into joy without overthinking. It’s the tree you walk past and can’t help but smile at, no matter what kind of day you’ve had.
And that is how we ended up with not one, not two — but three Christmas trees! It does feel a little extravagant. But somehow, they balance each other — tradition, wonder and joy — and together, they make the season feel whole. They remind me that Christmas isn’t just one thing: it’s a collection of moments, feelings, and stories, each shining in its own way.
And as I watch the lights twinkle across the three trees, I can’t help but think: this is Christmas, in all its beautiful variety, and it’s exactly right.
