Being the city girl that I am, I'm not sure that I have ever picked a Christmas tree out of the wild before. This isn't like going to a tree farm and cutting one of the hundreds of well manicured fluffy, full trees down. No, no . . . this is nature, wild nature. Not to be a downer but I had pretty low expectations going into the hunt, fully expecting our little tree to need some TLC when we got it home.
But oh, what a lovely surprise to find the perfect tree standing all by itself in a little clearing just waiting to be part of our family. It was like he had been growing there all these years just waiting for us to come along and make him ours. He is tall and fluffy and spider free (at least as far as we can tell) with the perfect little imperfection of a bald spot shyly telling us "my job is to face the wall so the other branches can shine." Yes, I think that this tree will do nicely.
And with that, we held ourselves a triumphant little picnic in the bed of the truck with hot chocolate and homemade cinnamon rolls. And then the three of us headed home to begin the baking, and football watching, and hot cider making and all good things that come with the holidays. Although I did make Jesse promise that no Christmas music was to be played until after dinner was over.
Fa, la, la, la, la.
