Some of my fondest childhood memories are of getting a Christmas tree. The funny thing is even thought I am approximately eight and twelve years older than my sisters, I don’t really remember getting a tree before they were born.
Kids make Christmas fun!
We always cut our own trees. There was ALWAYS snow, so we bundled up in snow pants, boots, hats and mittens. Mittens were doubled up because they did double duty. Not only did they keep your hands warm, but they were also used to put on top of the trees, as a signal that tree is in the running to be “the one.”
Ready to go, we would make the happy trek to Hunt’s Tree Farm on the other side of town. We always found the perfect tree and watched in wonder as dad, dressed always in jeans and a Carhart jacket, wiped away the snow with his boot, lay on the ground, and cut down the tree.
GO DAD GO!
My husband and I have had a tree since the first year we lived together. We have found our perfect trees in a number of ways. We have gone alone to cut our own, tagged along with family to cut together, paid too much in an overly-lit lot. While always fun, and always special, there was always something missing.
I don’t remember where we got our tree the first year we had Ben. But I know the year after we started going to a tiny little tree farm down the road. When I say tiny, I mean tiny. It doesn’t even have a name! There isn’t more than a couple of acres of property, and you have to walk behind the owner’s house, through his back yard, and around his gardens to get to the trees. But it’s so homey, and the owner so welcoming, you don’t mind. I love going there.
The first year we took Ben, when he was about 20-ish months old, we had a ton of snow! We pulled him around the hilly farm on a sled as we searched for the “Griffin Family Christmas Tree.” He laughed and ate snow, and we found the perfect tree, and daddy kicked the snow away with his boot and lay on the ground to cut.
GO DAD GO!
The second year we took him there was even more snow. While daddy strapped the tree to the top of the car, I sat Ben in a snow bank and snapped silly pictures of him.
We have continued the tradition with Genevieve, although it was only her first year that we had snow, and it was only a little bit. But she has enjoyed our trips to the tree farm, and her brother showing her the ropes. One thing about there being no snow, is you can really tear through the farm, racing from tree to tree to inspect them. Or, in her case, hug them and tell them you love them. We have a pine tree hugger on our hands, folks.
This year the trees are looking a little sparse at our little farm. I’m a creature of habit, and so I’m worried about what we will do next year, as I think they will need another year to become perfect trees. I’m going to shelve that worry though, because I know no matter where we get a tree, we will be together. Creating memories. Creating magic. Them for us as much as us for them.