Today was the day. Early on this cloudy morning I was not sure, but as we approached noon, the skies cleared to that brilliant blue that so beautifully embodies the best of a Vermont winter's day. Gary and I gathered what we needed - hand saw, cornmeal, tarp and gloves - and we drove down the road.
The tree farm is just down the road from our place, and there have been years in which we carried the tree home on a sled or sharing the load with our children, but this year it was just us. Involving the car seemed the sensible option. No need to stress our backs or our bodies unnecessarily.
We thought we had found the perfect tree almost as soon as we set foot in the field, but that felt strange to me. The choosing of a tree process is supposed to take time, properly reflecting the solemnity of the occasion. So we marked that tree with an arrow pointing toward it in the snow and dutifully wandered through the rows of trees, stopping to check one out here, another out there. Gary called me over to examine one he found and I, in turn, did the same, until we had three contenders, including the first one we spotted.
We returned to the trees we had marked and gave each of them a thorough going-over. Finally, we settled on a tree that, on close examination showed signs of a bird having nested in its branches, as well as an entire dry snake skin, which seemed auspicious to us. I accept that these "signs" may have been the exact things to turn someone else off, but that's okay with me. I fully embrace our eccentricities... most of the time.
Having made our decision, Gary and I spoke words of gratitude and sprinkled a dusting of corn meal before taking out the saw and cutting our chosen Christmas tree down. (This is a ritual we were taught to show respect for the life of the tree.) I was able to carry it out of the field on my own, leaving Gary free to carry the saw and cornmeal, and slip ahead of me to open the car. Once home, it was a surprisingly simple matter to find the stand and settle the tree into its new home.
"That almost felt too easy," Gary said.
"Yeah, it seems strange, doesn't it?" I replied, pouring water into the stand.
We both smiled contentedly, breathing in the sharp scent of pine, happy that it was beginning to feel a little more like Christmas. Content also, with the thought that, despite the challenges that are so rampant in the world today, maybe life doesn't have to be a struggle. Maybe some things can be as easy as finding the perfectly imperfect Christmas Tree.
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