We went out and got out Christmas tree on Saturday morning. When I was young, we always cut down our own tree. I have vivid memories of wandering through fields of trees with mom and dad. Dad always brought his little hatchet to cut down the trees rather than a saw. And something about having a sled with us? Not quite sure about that one.
The tree farm near us is more of just that -- a tree farm. A big field, flat, with lots of trees jammed in rows. Maybe that's what it was like when I was growing up, but I prefer my picturesque memories of trees nestled among hills and mountains.
We found a few that we really liked. And though not taller than Tom, at least they were about as tall as he was. And as you would expect each child chose a different tree to attach themselves too. Erin found a lovely white pine that was so full there was no room for ornaments. Jeffrey found a scotch pine (I think) that was only a little taller than mommy. After several tears and mini-fits we finally agreed upon a tree that mommy chose -- after we let them feed the sheep again and go inside to get candy canes.
Once the saw came out, the tears stopped. Jeffrey was really intrigued by the process of cutting down the tree. The kids even got to help some.
Upon our return home the ornaments and lights and all the other decorations came out. Christmas carols rang out through the house. And children continued to cry. This time because the tree was "prickly". And it was. So they wore mittens and gloves, and dropped ornaments. Tom came up with ingenious hooks so they wouldn't have to touch the tree so much. Eventually the tree was covered in our multitude of decorations including the ever important "High School Musical" and "Diego" Balls.
Oh, and later that night we returned from an evening out to find the entire tree upended on the floor and one guilty looking cat. Water spilled everywhere. Precious ornaments shattered. High School Musical ornament -- just fine. For now, the cat is still living inside. We'll see what his future holds.
