The Tree

When I was growing up, we always cut our own tree.

As a young girl in backwoods Texas, my Papa would cut a mesquite tree.

As a teen in Minnesota, we would brave the cold and snow and head to the tree farm.

They were special. The whole house would smell of the holidays, and I'm convinced the ornaments looked better hanging on those freshly cut trees.

We have never cut a tree. It's Houston. We get our pumpkins at Kroger and our trees at the tree lot...located at Kroger.

You could tell that our trees came from the Kroger parking lot. They never smelled like anything and the needles would drop from day one. By the time Christmas morning rolled around, it was a lethal mix of fire hazard and porcupine.

Well, not this year.

This year we made our way out to the country. Our destination: Dewberry Farm.

We all climbed onto a hay filled wagon and rode out to the trees.

One of these would be ours; That perfect Christmas tree.

After scrutinizing a multitude of firs, pines, and spruces, we found it: The One.

There were very nice people that would cut the tree for you.

But that would be lame. We didn't come out to the country to have someone else do the dirty work.

The fact that a tool with a sharp edge would now be in play increased the interest level for The Boy considerably.

The Offspring watched with eager anticipation as The Mr. sawed away.

Timber!

It's ours.

Satisfaction.

Man conquers nature.

The cut trees were loaded up and brought to the front of the farm.

While the tree was being prepared for travel, we tried to keep warm.

By Houston standards, it was a chilly day. The wind was blowing and the air was damp.

The Girl was second guessing our decision to travel to a farm for our tree at this point. Kroger is much warmer than the country.

With the tree safely wrapped and in back, we headed home to give it some bling.

And with that, I say let the Christmas season begin.