Two Christmases ago, my family decided to break the tradition of setting up our artificial Christmas tree and go to an actual “get down and dirty/snowy” tree farm and cut one down ourselves. We were very excited, and hoped it would become our new family tradition (some of us even joked about never seeing our old faker again!)! We meticulously thought and planned for this big day a week in advance; we would drive out on a Saturday morning, search for the tree farm of our dreams, and once there, we planned to give ourselves a half hour lee-way of time to cut down “perfect” tree. Little did we remember that there was a tree farm just down the road (notice the lack of adverbs describing this tree farm of “our dreams”), and that this tree farm sold some pretty decent trees (notice the missing key word “perfect”). Well, for some reason or other it sounded like a good idea to us to stop at this one, since we needed all the available time to cut down the tree anyways. So we parked, got out of the car and took a critical look at all of the “sample” trees on display, before we went hunting for the real “perfect” tree. The owner, a backwoods looking elderly gentleman, came out to greet us just as we were asking ourselves where to go to get to the trees, at which he shortly gave us the answer, “Yer looking at em right der…”
Well! I must say that cut our Christmas tree adventure a wee bit short!! But even though we had the whole rest of the day before us, it didn’t matter because the tree had to take up that time drying anyways — and as you can see, we got ourselves a pretty darn good looking tree (even if it wasn’t hand cut by Dad!) The rest of the day was spent decorating the rest of the house — a nice peaceful time of “No you’re tying it up wrong!” or, “We’ve never put that nativity scene there!” and, “Do you need a little help with that — Never Mind!” and so on and so forth.
Hey, we have all girls in this family that hold some strong opinions! Don’t judge! 🙂