Yesterday we took our Grandson’s Christmas Tree hunting at Selins on the Homestead Road. I warned the boys we would have to proceed quietly or the trees would hear us and take flight. Its really a shame how early small children take to rolling their eyes. Both boys got to help fell the tree and you can see how the Tan Man and I are a fluid team felling our unwary balsam.
I’ve never picked out a better sized tree for the space in our living room. Its just right while it waits for lights and ornaments to welcome Santa when he … well, he used to come down the chimney but we put a gas insert so I’m hoping he has other avenues for ingress.
I remember the first time I went out to hunt a tree. I was still in high school or the first year of college and my folks were content to let the kids do the harvesting. All previous harvests had been in parking lots but somehow we got wind of a tree farm, or just a farm, that wanted some trees cut down. I drove my siblings out to the country and we wandered around inspecting the trees available to us. They weren’t the typical shape but more like an onion dome on a Russian Church. Out in the open they didn’t seem so big and we wanted big. I can’t imagine what our old Chrysler Newport looked like with that behemoth roped down on it but it seemed to take up half our living room once inside. It also left a nice tarry stain on the ceiling when we hoisted it into place.
Tree size does make a difference. The pile of presents under it didn’t look quite so generous as usual.