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Is it beginning to look a lot like Christmas?

I grew up measuring Christmas by the tree. Cut-your-own, grocery-lot deals, even in my young adult years, Manhattan bodega carry-aways à la “When Harry Met Sally.” I take the tree very seriously.

No tree meant the season hadn’t started.

Today I’m closer to Billy Crystal’s actual age in said holiday classic, plus I travel more, host more and share the living room with a couple curious dogs.

The charm of watering and a needle duty have worn off. I need the look without the mess, which is how I landed on Balsam Hill Christmas trees.

I wasn’t anti -artificial so much as pro -tradition. How

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