Much to the chagrin of the three reading older boys, Mary and Gabe giggle nonstop, smearing chocolate on each other’s faces and swatting each other like puppies. By the time we spot the treeline, everyone is anxious to spill out of the car and begin our annual search for a tree.
I think, when I tell people we cut our own tree, they imagine a Christmas forest with one beautiful little pine after another vying for the crowning spot in our family room. Rather, it’s kind of bleak– miles of sagebrush, lots of aspens and here and there a few evergreens. Most of the trees are way too tall at 50 or 60 feet, others are tiny and many have branches only on one side. Our goal is never to find the perfect tree, just one that will work.
Upon seeing our tree, people ask two questions–“How did you get it home?” (answered above) and “H0w do you get the star on top?” We used to tip it sideways to decorate the top, but this year we came up with the brilliant idea of scooting it over to the balcony.
We use the same star my sister gave us twenty years ago– small, simple, beautiful.
Helping Mary find the perfect spot for pink dolly.
Hans risks his life to place Santa correctly.
Once the top is decorated, we move the tree to it’s proper spot (shedding needles and covering our hands and hair with sap).
Should I be nervous about my baby girl on that ladder? I’ll be honest, ladders make tree decorating twice as fun.
Kitty watches the fun from Grandma Zoe’s Christmas village.
We used to ration our ornaments- two per branch– but with the addition of Grandma Zoe’s boxes of beauty we hang with reckless abandon. Every limb is lush and heavy with sparkling glass.
I’ll be honest, photos simply can’t do it justice. You’ll need to stop by and see it in person.
Because somehow, the barely passable tree in the woods always becomes absolutely
p.s. if you live in Utah and want to cut your own tree, you can buy a permit for $10 at the Heber Valley Ranger Station the Saturday after Halloween.