We only get to spend about a week of the Christmas season this year out west with family. Since we are going to be in Rochester for most of December, and since we have been married for almost two years now and are starting to feel like our own family, we finally get to have our very own Christmas tree.
After work one day last week, Ted picked me up and we drove straight to one of the many Christmas tree farms on the outskirts of the city. It was already completely dark by the time we got there and so they provided us with a flashlight along with the traditional saw and a quick lesson on the different types of trees. We headed down the dirt path between trees, shining the beam of the flashlight over the tops of trees in an attempt to judge the relative heights.
Most of what we could see from the path was pretty pitiful-dead brown branches with the tops barely coming up to my shoulders. So we headed in to the thick of it and at last found a tall stately spruce. I wanted a fir but my feet were getting cold and it was by far the best we had seen, so Ted got started sawing at the trunk. On the way back, I watched nervously out the windows as Ted drove 10 under, attracting us many tailgaters. But I mean, seriously-who tailgates the guy with the Christmas tree on top of his car.
And now we get to come home at the end of every day to a house that smells like the forest. We strung her with lights one night while listening to Raffi as per Ryser tradition. And then another day, I spent an enjoyable hour cutting out snowflakes to adorn her branches. She is still a work in progress, (waiting for presents underneath her…) but I definitely feel the Christmas spirit more when the lights on the automatic timer (by-product of a gadget obsessed husband) turn on every night.