In childhood memories, the Christmas tree was always the centerpiece of our family holiday festivities.

I never knew whether it was a true matter of tradition or a product of procrastination, but in my early years Mother and Father invariably purchased the tree at the last minute, waiting to put it up until after my siblings and I were tucked into bed and sound asleep.

Waking up on Christmas morn to find a fragrant Scotch pine glittering with lights and shiny ornaments was more magical than discovering the contents of gifts piled up under its boughs. It mattered little that at times it was a spindly specimen chosen from the last pickings on the lot.  Once decorated, even the sorriest was a joyous sight to behold.

Fast forward to my adult life and first Christmases here in Mexico.  Real pines were scarce commodities before NAFTA came into effect, allowing imports from north-of-the-border woodlands. Living on a starvation budget at the time, I wasn’t inclined to shell out for the hideous silver artificial models that were the only other option on the commercial market.

So rather than do without, my husband and I adopted the custom of our Mexican neighbors. We grabbed an ax and hiked up to hills in search of a bare branch that would serve the purpose.

We learned that the copal is the species of choice. It’s a native tree distinguished by tangled branches covered with spiky nodules where shoots of tiny leaves protrude in the rainy season. By December, most of the green foliage has dried up and fallen to the ground.

Another characteristic is the aromatic resin exuding from the bark. Hardening once exposed to air, the sticky gum has been valued since the pre-Hispanic era as a type of incense burned in spiritual rituals.   

We decorated our first rama navideña (Christmas branch) with a coat of white spray paint, a string of lights, a box of multicolored glass esferas (balls) and a few meters of shiny tinsel purchased at the local stationer’s store, and an odd assortment of trinkets collected around our house. It was a smashing if peculiar creation.

Over the years we have accumulated heaps of additional decorative items: charming Mexican handicrafts, lovely holiday figures handmade by my late mother-in-law, little souvenirs picked up on travels near and far. The real booty was the load of ornaments I hauled home from the States after my mother passed away. Though many among them bore dust and tarnish of years gone by, each one brings back precious memories.

My own offspring have grown up with the annual tradition of trekking into the wilderness to find a Christmas branch. Our expeditions have become more daunting year by year as pathways to mountainous terrain are increasingly lost to urban sprawl. But we will not be deterred.

No green branches of the tannebaum for me! The humble copal is the perfect vehicle to display the eclectic holiday treasure trove that represents family history.