LIVE CHRISTMAS TREE (the saga)

We ventured out today to fulfill our annual tradition of finding a live Christmas tree. We had intended to go yesterday after church, but it was only about 20º outside and I'm quite the whiner when it comes to bitter cold. So we opted to go today.

Now the one concern I had (besides whining over the bitter cold) was that the place we usually go might not be open during the week. No problem. I'll just take a little look-see on the Internet and, oh lookee here, they're open daily. We're on our way.

So, we drive a good 30 minutes or more to the little (eensy) town of Lizton. Spotting the familiar country church nestled in the intersection of a rural country road, we made a left and drove the short half mile to the tree farm. The kids shifted nervously with excitement.

"Will the Christmas shop be open, Mommy?"
"Can we take a candy cane from the tree again this year?"
"Can we watch them put our tree through the shaker machine?"
"Will Daddy let us get some hot chocolate to share?"

It was so nice to hear them bringing their favorite memories to life in anticipation of our stop there. That is, until we saw the CLOSED sign in the window of the little Christmas cabin.

WILL RETURN AT 9 O'CLOCK.

Um,...hmmm. Okay then, sooooo would that be 9 o'clock, as in today? See, 'cause I'm thinking it's 2 o'clock now and uh, I doubt they're suggesting we hunt for a tree in the dark of night (then again, the sheep farmers back in Ohio let us do that one year. They just cautioned us to be sure it was a branch we were cutting in the pitch black "so's you don't lose a digit out there.")

The kids were immediately disappointed. I was ready to knock on doors. But thankfully, I had noticed another sign at the top of the highway exit ramp.

HOBBLES TREE FARM. This-a-way.

Okay sure, so it didn't say this-a-way, but it might as well have, what with the this-a-ways and that-a-ways we had to go to find the Hobbits,...er,...HOBBLES.

We followed umpteen signs or more, farther and farther out into the middle of nowhere. By the time we reached the driveway of Hobbles tree farm, I was thinking we might have fallen for a trap. You know. Unknowing family makes wrong turn in unfamiliar territory and is never heard from again. That kind of trap.
Put it to rest already, Toni. Your kids need a tree.

So we found the location, which was marked by a most confusing sign. O sure, it read HOBBLES TREE FARM. But,..what's with superimposing the words on the image of a pink pig????? I mean, is it a tree farm or a soo-ey farm?
Boggled the mind.

So, we drove up the ooooh so long driveway (it's always a long hallway or staircase in those scary flicks, isn't it?). Sure enough, the "OPEN" sign blazed brightly (okay, so it was just a vinyl placard, but don't the neon signs of the motels always blaze with "VACANCY" in those movies? It's all creeping me out at this point.)

So Carl knocks on the door and gets the scoop.
One price fits all. Interesting.
He grabs a saw (I see another and consider bringing that one too "just in case.") Away we go.

Up one row.
Down another.
Up one row.
Down another.
Repeat 40 times.

These trees were of the Charlie Brown variety, I tell you. I even joked that we should take home the red one (a dead tree whose needles looked nearly red in color.) We must have covered 5 acres or more in the snow and cold, four kids in tow (and having to carry Brandon for the majority of the time, which did NOT thrill him in the least.)


We were about to give up and take home a "disadvantaged" tree, when I suddenly spotted one that was at least borderline acceptable. Never mind the 4 bug nests in it. Minor concern at this point and Carl could pluck them off (because you don't really think that I would, do ya?) And after a bit of amateur surveying and debating, we concluded that, no, it was NOT a tree from the HOBBLES' personal backyard stash (of course, we didn't have any actual surveyor tools to go by, but we eyeballed 'er pretty good before taking a saw to it.)



She's sitting pretty in our family room tonight, lights all aglow. There aren't any ornaments on yet, because we had to go through our annual sparring bickering grounds for divorce "debate" over how the lights should go. Let me safely tell you how they should NOT go. They should NOT be strung furniture polish style.
You know,...wax on, wax off.
Lights on, lights off.
I'd say we strung her a good three times or more before finally agreeing that no matter how many times we called a do-over, it just wasn't going to happen. Because you can't squeeze a Great Dane in a carry-on bag, and you can't string an 8 foot tree with two strands of lights no matter how many times you wrap her. So,... someone was clearly heading to the local dollar store for more lights. And let me remind you that "someone" hates winter and whines when she's cold. I was in no mood.

So I'm driving along, griping myself all the way to Walgreens.

Yep, I (moi) had to buy more lights in anticipation of more holiday sparring merriment. Which means that I (moi) ventured out into the cold, whiner that I am. In fairness to uh hem, the other light stringer, I'll add that it was my choice. I really kind of needed the shock of the cold to my overloaded nervous system at that point. All together now, JOY TO THE WORLD! Seriously though, I'm happy to report that the lights are now twinkling brightly on our "almost brought home a Charlie Brown tree but didn't, though it could be a tree out of their backyard" Christmas tree.
It's all good.

And now for a few outtakes.
1. We passed on visiting one farm called Devil's 40 Tree Farm. What the heck???
2. Hackman's didn't sound all that appealing either.
3. We also passed on the tree farm that proudly advertised their "Charlie Brown bargain bin." Yes, dead serious.

FINAL NOTE:
This video cracked me up. It's a bit long, but made me laugh as I reflected what might be the worst gift I ever received. Fortunately, no major flops came to mind. How about you?
http://creativity-online.com/work/view?seed=5e32d548

Toni