In New York City, Christmas trees are sold along the curb. This is in contrast to many other cities, where Christmas trees are sold in lots.

The Christmas trees here are wrapped—no, tightly bound—in silver-colored wire and they lean against either a chain-link fence or slats of wood. The trees seem to lazily look out onto the street. They’re like a gaggle of youths loitering outside, waiting for an opportunity to come their way. No, they’re not wasting time; they’re biding time.

Some of the trees are adorned with a large red bow, but most of them simply wait for tinsel to replace the wire that encircles their branches.

Pieces of paper are somehow tacked onto the trees:

WE GLADLY DELIVER TO YOUR HOME

they announce. (The “we”, I am fairly certain, refers to the tree sellers, not to the trees themselves.) I’m sure most people do not want to lug a Christmas tree twenty blocks and three avenues to their apartments, though I am sure I will soon see people doing just that. (Do taxi drivers agree to strap Christmas trees to the roofs of their cars? If the tree is short enough, do people shove them into the back seat of the cab? Or do people call up towncars? drag them onto the subway late at night?)

Sometimes, there are multiple rows of trees and the shorter trees lean up against the taller trees. Perhaps people dig past the first row with hopes that the second row of trees may be more pristine, less blemished—you know, the same way people pick past the apples on top at the grocer and eagerly inspect the “better” apples underneath.

It really is Christmas time in the city.