Killing a tree is the best way to get into the holiday spirit.

 

The sky was low and heavy, snow on the way... you can almost smell it in the air. It was time for some snow, because cold Midwest winters without snow are just depressing and brown. The boys bundled up, we headed to the Christmas tree farm to find the perfect Christmas tree.

 

We drove half-way across the county, down a gravel road and onto the tree farm, the entrance festooned year-round with candy canes and elves cut from plywood and painted with holiday cheer. Pulling down a narrow lane, the endless rows of trees welcomed us to meet the challenge.

 

It's easy to get caught up in the moment, falling in love with a tree that's way too big for your little home, or reminds you exactly of Charlie Brown. We parked and started walking the rows – the search was on.

 

My boys are too easily distracted, chasing each other and scooping up the bare bits of snow left from the last storm, icy and dirty and ready for a fresh new layer. If the weather man is right, tomorrow should be a snow day.

 

Someone told the boys about a tried and true method of wishing a snow day into existence, and they made plans to execute it again tonight. Step One: have snow in the forecast. Step Two: place a spoon under your pillow at bedtime and be sure to wear your PJ’s inside-out. And Step Three? Wake up in the morning to a winter wonderland, and a bonafide snow day!

 

We walked the third row, and on to the fourth. That's when he spotted it. “The perfect tree,” he said, looking at me. I could only nod in agreement. 

 

It was round, but not too round. The branches were strong and wouldn't collapse under the weight of heavy homemade ornaments the boys seem to bring home with increasing frequency as the end of the school term neared.

 

Using the borrowed hack saw provided at the front gate, he started in on the work of cutting it down. The boys speculated about just what they might find under this tree on Christmas morning. Legos, a new catcher's glove, more legos. The temperature was dropping, definitely going to snow.

 

Once the tree was felled, we dragged it back to the little shack that doubled as a gift shop. The boys gladly accepted hot chocolate offered by the shopkeeper. Peeling off their wet gloves and hats and settling in by the wood stove, their cheeks were impossibly rosy from the sudden warmth. Outside the tree was fastened to the roof and money exchanged. The ride home was quiet, they almost fell asleep.

 

After fighting with the tree stand, and cleaning up the needles that seemed to be everywhere, I set about my task. Real trees are sharp and the needles sting when you reach far into the branches to string up the lights. Then come the boys, hanging too many decorations here, and none over there... I'd go back later and disperse them more evenly.

 

It gets dark so early this time of year. We gathered in the family room and switched on the lights. The tree sparkled and twinkled. The memories of all the years of handmade stuff brought home from school, all hanging in one place to be admired. The smell of pine bringing a flood of Christmases past into the room. 

 

The tree isn't all the way dead, I thought. We put it on life support – and it's got a solid two weeks left in it before it goes up in a glorious New Years Eve bonfire.

 

And then it began to snow... a snow day tomorrow for sure.

 

(First published in Folk Magazine, Issue 17, December 2020)