Every year, we get what I call a “formerly live” Christmas tree. Back in the days when I bought my formerly live Christmas trees from a tree lot, I just called them live trees. Now that we actually partake in the killing of the tree, I call them formerly live.
What started as a tradition years ago before I knew my husband has become our family tradition. Each year – usually around the first weekend in December – we bundle up, throw some boots, a saw and a tarp in the car and head to the Christmas tree farm about twenty minutes away. There, we walk the acres of farm looking for our perfect tree. I am consistently on the hunt for a taller, skinnier tree as we have super high ceilings in our house. Darryl wants one that is well-formed, but it can have a “bad side” that will go against the wall. I have to admit, I’ve become partial to the Canaan Firs over the years. They have super long, super soft needles giving them a super full appearance.
Once selected, Darryl cuts down the tree and we have to lug it back to the farm to have it baled, pay and then load it into our car. I’m not sure why, but each year I completely disregard how far the tree is from the farm when I pick out my tree. Lugging it is a pain in the neck, but it feels like if I go out as far as I can, the chances are that the best trees are there. I mean, won’t most people walk the shortest distance to find their tree?
Once home, the rituals of putting up the tree stretch all the way back to childhood. We have one of those old-fashioned metal tree stands with the three eye-bolts in the stand which hold the tree steady. We have to let the tree unthaw a bit before unwrapping it and let the branches completely fall like I remember my parents doing. Once the tree gets placed, my husband’s job is frankly done. He’ll get us both a glass of wine and I’ll decorate the tree while he watches and typically plays with the cat. In the end, just like everyone else, I’ll take pictures of my tree and post on social media.
Thankfully, of all the things that have changed this year, this one thing hasn’t. This weekend, we’re headed to the Christmas tree farm. And for once, I’ve completely cleared the decks for this weekend – no working and no trips to the Lake to see my sisters. So, I have a full weekend to decorate the tree, finish putting up my lights and generally get this little homestead ready for Christmas.
It’s one of the things I enjoy most about the holidays, honestly. It seems like that once the tree is up, the holidays are actually here. The tree is literally up for usually less than three to four weeks, but it has an outsized imprint on my childhood memories. I can’t always remember how the house looked until I look at pictures. But the tree? I have a pretty clear idea of how that looked.
So, today I am slogging through a loooonnnggg day of meetings. My day will end somewhere around 7 p.m. tonight. Tomorrow is another one of those “multiple head spaces” day when I have a number of different clients and I’m doing a little bit for all of them. But now, I have something to look forward to and genuinely, I can’t wait. There’s a little snow on the ground, the weekend will be cold but beautiful and there’s both a tree out there and a glass of wine in here with my name on it.
Happy holidays, everyone! ‘Tis now the season to enjoy!
The Yuppie Homesteader 