The Hunt

Today we went on our annual Christmas Tree Hunt. We go to the same place every year though we do try to sample various areas of the mountain. We wander the up and down the hill before we find a tree and Bill cuts it down with the help of whichever child/ren are willing, and the rest of us enjoy a popcorn snack.

Every year there is a certain member of our household that treats this adventure as a seek and destroy mission. Get there, get a tree, get out. Don't fraternize with the locals.

The young adult in the crowd merely stands to one side with the posture of the angry youth. She likes to pretend she doesn't like the experience, but she shows for it every year and I believe she revels in the varying dynamics of the crowd.

Me? I see it as an adventure, a time to walk through the trees, take a moment to enjoy nature, the fresh air, and just being out there with my family.

The two youngest have yet to develop an opinion about the whole tree hunting thing. However, this year they walked a bit before remembering there was popcorn to be had and then that was it for them.

I have to admit that wrapped up in all this is the quest for the perfect tree. It has to be so tall that when the star is placed on it, it just grazes the ceiling. It has to be nice and fat with lots of branches for cramming on lights and hanging ornaments. There must be no visible holes in the tree either, and it must be a nice deep green with no dead/dying branches. Lastly, the tree must speak to me. I must feel something from it, so that I know it wants to come home with us.

This drives the rest of my family crazy, or so they say. I think they secretly like my dedication and the fact that every year we come home with the "perfect" tree.