Weird day to buy a Christmas tree, but that’s what we did. Weirdly warm. And sunny. What? I’m not complaining but, still.
We go to a “cut your own” place with some of the nicest views around here.
You stop at the owner’s house where today, nobody was home, but there was a note on the door that said, “Hey, had to go out for awhile. Just take a map and a hand saw from the fence and leave your money on the kitchen table when you’re done.”
Love that. And there is lots of money on the kitchen table, just sitting there. Plus, you have the run of their whole house if you want. The trust is just incredible. So inspiring.
So I took a saw from the fence and we drove the truck up to where the Doug firs and the Frasers are planted and let the dog run loose while we scoped out the trees.
I couldn’t find one this year. Nothing looked “right.” In other years it’s so cold, and the trudging through the snow is so arduous, that after 10 minutes, every tree starts to look fabulous because you’re so freezing cold and just want to pick one, chop it down and get the hell home to the fire and some hot chocolate laced with Baileys.
But today we got all “connoisseur-y” out there, needing to find “the perfect tree.” And sadly, we had to return the hand saw and not leave any money on the kitchen table and go to another place—a place we’ve never had luck with in the past. A place where they have a selection of “already cut” trees from their farm.
And today we had luck. Picked out a pretty Grand Fir. It has beautiful soft needles and smells lemony.
Here’s the guy who helped us:
And here is the tree going into the baler:
And coming out of the baler:
It was a good, but weird day, to pick an Xmas tree in Pennsylvania.
I’m not complaining. Not at all.