When I was young, my folks, siblings and I would drudge across town to the Christmas tree farm owned by family friends, pick the tallest tree in the lot, and then saw it to the ground.
It was a ritual we repeated every year, no matter how far away each of us lived. The group dwindled year by year, to the point where it’s my parents and one brother who will head this year to Schaeffer’s Farm, drop onto the frozen lot, and raze a Douglas fir, or white spruce. They’ll call, or send a picture of the tree, and when I get home on Dec. 21, we’ll probably all decorate it together, like when we were kids.
Which brings me to my point. I gotta have a tree. I don’t need to cut it down, but it needs to be real. I’d ideally like to support a local fire station, church, or otherwise small business. Comments are open; tell me where to go.
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