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Christmas-tree hunt knows no boundaries
BEYOND MY CONTROL, BY CHRISTINE THOME
Christmas-tree hunt knows no boundaries
I knew it was only a matter of time before it happened.
Seems an Oregon couple recently went in search of the "perfect" Christmas tree high into the mountains and didn't return for two days.
That's two whole days of: "It's bare on the back side!" "It's too tall!" "It's too short!" "It's the ugliest tree I've ever seen!"
I think I would have just taken the Donner Party approach and eaten my husband for dinner.
"Look at this!" I cried as I shoved the article in my husband's face. "This could be us. They were found two days later in California -- a completely different state than the one they started in."
"If you're making a case for a fake tree, stop right now. It's not going to happen," he replied.
For years, I have begged John to let me buy a fake tree, but his caveman hunting-and-gathering instincts always take over in December, and we are forced to trudge through the wilderness in search of the perfect Christmas tree. The man can't hunt for a clean pair of underwear or gather his dirty socks from the floor, but put him in the middle of a forest, and he's a regular Grizzly Adams.
Our Christmas-tree season starts with John referring to his tree farm list, which contains the names and locations of four different farms, all within a 60-mile radius. Once we find a good tree, we return to that farm for no more than three years, at which point, we go to the next farm on the list, allowing the previous tree farm to regrow their supply before we return again.
"I want to go to the farm with the hot dogs and hot chocolate," one daughter begged.
"Nope, that one's off the list," John replied. "They were getting short on good trees last year; it's time to move on."
"Can we at least go to a farm that has a hayride to take you into the woods? My legs always get tired," she whined as her three siblings nodded in agreement.
"Absolutely not!" John said sternly. "You guys just don't get it, do you? The only reason these tree farms have hayrides is to take you to the trees they want you to see and buy. It's a ploy! They are feeding into your sense of Christmas traditions by giving you hot chocolate and a hayride until you are so complacent, you'll buy any tree they point out to you. They want you to picture yourself in a Currier and Ives Christmas card.
"But I don't buy into their ploy. I know that the best trees are not the ones on the hayride, but off the beaten path. And that, my family, is where we are headed today."
Instead of going off the beaten path, I planned to beat my husband on the path, but I decided to keep that thought to myself for a while.
So we piled into the car and relied on faded, dog-eared directions to get us to a Christmas-tree farm we hadn't been to in years.
"OK, gang, get over here and huddle up!" John cheered. "It's time to find the 2009 Thome family Christmas tree."
Like a football coach, John pumped us up with his energy as we put our arms around each other and placed our heads close together to make sure we understood the game-winning play.
"OK, Jack and Hallie, you go in that direction in search of a Frazer fir. Jess and Hannah, you go in the other direction and check out the blue spruces. Mom and I are going this way to find the Scotch pines. Call or text when you find something. Got it?"
We all nodded, counted to five, broke the huddle and yelled, "Tree!" with our fists in the air.
It had been over an hour and we still hadn't heard from the kids. I was pretty sure they had given up and were on their second hayride and fourth cup of hot chocolate.
"Do you have a GPS on your phone?" I asked John.
"Sure. Why?"
"I think I just saw a sign that said, 'Welcome to Pennsylvania.'"
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