This is the first year in forever that we didn't get our Christmas tree the weekend after Thanksgiving. That was because I was hard at work getting those cupboards painted before the bloggy home tour. Nothing like a firm deadline to get me going. I shouldn't need that but it's shamefully true, I work best under pressure!
Anyways, we headed out to our favorite tree farm Sunday after church with my in-laws. In spite of the misty rain and the deep mud, it was as captivating as usual. The scent of all those pines, the fire for roasting marshmallows, the scalding hot chocolate in styrofoam cups, and, of course, the search for T.H.E. tree.
What a good man I have who, every year, patiently indulges my tree search. "Yes, that one's nice but could we go check out those ones in the field way over there?" Because you never know if there's a cuter tree just around the corner!
We finally settled upon this one, perky and petite, and Daddy let Oliver try his hand with the saw.
It's our tradition. Something the kids can remember in years to come. "Remember how we always would get our tree right after Thanksgiving and the hot chocolate would burn our tongues and Mom would take forever to decide on which one and Dad would carry the tree on his back?"
These are the days to remember.