Yesterday, Janet and I made our annual pilgrimage to the wilds of Connecticut where we performed the holiday rite of hunting down and killing our Christmas tree.  Over the span of several hours we made our way through the herd, who’s number seemed limitless.

Finally we found our prey, a nine foot tall Douglas Fir.  Perhaps the alpha male!  Cautiously, we approached it, not to startle it or the others.  Armed only with my trusty loaner saw, we reached down to the stump and began cutting.

The majestic creature did not want to go down easily.  Only through skill and perseverance did we overpower this beast.  The tree finally fell and we proudly brought it to the lodge where it was prepared for the long trip home.  Hemingway would be proud!

This morning, Janet and I looked at this tree, now standing in our living room. She leaned over to me and whispered in my ear, “Next year, let’s get a smaller one, okay?”

She says that every year.


Phil

Damn, what a story, Phil.


We've always had fake trees. I'd like to get a real one just to get that whole great Christmas spirit, that whenever you walk past the tree, you smell the pine. That you always have to keep it watered. That the sap gets on your fingers and everything sticks to you (much like what happens in Christmas Vacation). But with a plastic tree, you have to stack parts of the tree on top of each other, pull down the branches, and then spread the branches apart and make it look all real 'n' stuff. It's much work. But it gets the job done.

Sean

I grew up with artificial trees.  The mid seventies were not good years as we had one of those silver pom-pom trees.  Not good at all....

I swore I would get real trees every year and I have for the last twenty or twenty-five.  About fifteen years ago, I started cutting my own down.  They're much much fresher than the ones you buy at the local lot.  Those ones were cut down in August, believe it or not.

Also, when you go to a tree farm, you have a choice of thousands of trees, and not thirty or forty from the lot.

And, if you keep it watered, it's damn near fireproof.  Swear to God.

At the end of the holidays, I use to just toss the tree out the window.  This was easier than carrying it down four flights of stairs and sweeping up the mess.  Janet didn't like this idea.  Now we chop up in the apartment and carry it down in pieces.

I wrote an article about Christmas trees, several years ago.  If I can dig it up, I'll post it.



Phil