Eleven months of the year I’m embarrassed by our family room’s vaulted ceiling. It’s tall, really tall. The kind of room where people gasp upon entering and ask, “How do you change your lightbulbs?” The room is so pretentious and I am anything but.
But in December, I embrace my cathedral-like ceiling because it can house the most glorious Christmas tree. Any normal tree would be dwarfed by the cavern so we get a tree permit and head up to the great Wasatch range to cut our own.
Tree cutting this year also coincided with snow suit upgrade. This is one of the great benefits of five boys. I buy really nice ski suits and they are always thrilled when they move up to the next one. Gabe just outgrew Ben’s first little Obermeyer after 13 years of constant use.
I could pass it down to Mary, you say?
C’mon , I’m not that practical. 😉 Besdies my nephew has dibs on it now.
The boots haven’t fared so well and are now dependent on duct tape for survival.
The saw represents power. Everyone wants to carry it.
It’s a long tromp through the woods.
Unless your name is Mary.
Look! I was there too. I made the hat for Erik back when I was that sort of wife. “Oh, you need a hat? Let me whip that up for you and line it with fleece.” Who was that girl? I miss her.
Is there anything better than a stick?
Finally, after 90 minutes of tromping through the woods we became discouraged. Choosing a tree isn’t as easy as you’d think. So many of them have double trunks or are missing a back side. It’s the woods, not a tree farm.
I was so tired of the cold that when Mary pointed to one on the side of the road and cried, “That one!” I readily agreed.
“Are you sure?” Erik asked. “It’s kind of small and uneven.”
But they only look small and uneven in the woods. I know from experience that they transform themselves in our house.
Xander made the final cut.
And it really didn’t look that big on top of the car
(I’m including this photo because EVERYONE asks how we got the tree home).
The star goes on before we even out it upright, then the lights and the old glass ornaments. My tree is just like my mother’s and my sisters– mismatched, glassy, sparkly, a new ornament every year for each child…
Do I really want to show you the next photo? It’s so ostentatious, Really.
And I love it.