You gotta cut 'em off under the snow. Some people, somebody here yesterday, cut it off up above, and that's the skirt, that's where you get the real span ...

We hadn't intended to be here. We'd set out thinking we do what we always do, or have done since the scouts stopped their fundraiser sales down at Kirkland's, and since the mid-way to Hepworth farm had stopped; maybe it's just a tradition gone out of fashion but damn it I like mine with a beginning and an ending, transient background to the stocks of Old Regulars we haul out every year.

up here we have 12-foot, some fifteen. you want to drive down around past the woodlot there. got the campground back there now, otherwise couldn't afford the insurance ...

We headed to the UPI in Hepworth, and as usual this time of year, they had a few stragglers. We passed on them, headed into town for lunch (got suckered again: gad, those McD sandwiches look so real ... but no, they taste just like everything else) some last mall-sifting, drop in on Santa, swing by the bowling alley, the Kinsmen have closed up shop, so we hit the lumber yard ... they have one, only one, it's 4-foot and nearly spherical, in fact, we can see someone had lopped off quite a diameter of trunk there at the top. "Maybe it had turned brown?". At the west-end nursery they also had just one, with a knarly base that would have to lose about 3-feet to fit into our stand -- a man May knew drove up as we were leaving, with a woman probably his mother, and we could tell they'd be a better home for this one. We push on, worst case is we go back to the UPI, but there is that sign up at the Three C's Campground ...

Dad ran this place for 20 years. Used to always supply that big 35-footer for the mall, they called this year, can't do it anymore, insurance won't let them ...

There's a few up by the road, any one of them would be folded in two and still not fit that space we have beside the piano out here in the Electronic Cottage. The road leads out down between two fields of tall trees, rounds the camping area and opens into an acre or two of home-sized trees decked in snow. Kaelin strayed from following my footprints and had to go back to the car, May would point one out, I'd blaze the path out, Nolan followed behind and the two of us would brush off the snow ... and dig out to groundlevel so Mama could take a better look.

You got a hand saw?
Ah, no, that was my next question.

This is it, this is the one. A sweet waft of spruce wells up as we shake the snow free, I pull up my hood and lay down on my side; had I known I'd be burrowing into the snow, I might have worn jeans instead of deck-pants, at least I'd worn the parka and moonboots. "You want me to get the blanket from the car dear?" No, it's ok, I'm here now and I shift around to get more leverage with the saw. "You'll get all wet" It's snow, I'll be fine, I just brush it off me before it melts, it will be ok. I start my cut right at an inch from groundlevel, and if you guys can grab the top now and tilt a bit ... not too much ... almost done ... and there.

Done cut my first Christmas Tree.

There was so many to choose from!
some folks say there's not enough

We lash it to the roof-rack. "Best tree, ever!" Drive back up to the house and yeah, ok, maybe it's a bit more than we'd wanted to spend or could really afford but hey ...

1. this act is the epitome of what I mean by a people-postive post-consumer transient goods gift-giving economy
2. it's an underappreciated fact that Christmas Treefarming is Ontario's number one summer employer of young people.
3. factor in an incomparable hour of whole-family entertainment.
4. it is, by all accounts, a damn fine tree and it's not those barbed knitting needles we normally get.

So we all win. After all, it's not just a decoration, it's not just a ritual symbol. The seasonal slow-burn sacrifice of the live tree is a very tangible positive action, and lest anyone wants to wax environmental, let's remember the ending of The Gingerbread Man ("I can, I can") and remember that the ultimate and inescapable Day of Disposal by our method is economically, sociologically and ecologically miles beyond any method for the frayed and years-worn metal and plastics works.

But enough of accounting for economics, it's Christmas ...

folks came out last Sunday and yesterday, bitter cold, 20 below, I'd plowed the road and it was frozen over solid. They'd stand the tree up and wham on the road to shake the snow, and big pieces snap off; fold a branch like this in your hand, it just crumbles. "That's your damage. I didn't do that" ... you need any bows? very pretty, cross them like this, bit of snow makes them bend, just beautiful ...

It's outside the door now; we had to get one of those tree-bags that sit under and let you just body-bag the whole thing once the holidays are over, but I figured it could stand a few days under the deck ... after all, it is fresh. I leaned it up against the door downstairs, out of any snowfall. "Hey kids, look who's at the door!" then went inside.

Had to. I was soaked.