She came all the way from Oregon. It took her seven years to reach us, and seven years to attain a six feet stature. She's a Douglas-fir. She's a renewable, recyclable resource. She's healthy for the home, removing dust and pollen. She'll look beautiful for the next three weeks. And I can smell her from here. She smells of holiday happenings, family memories, and instigates reasons for us to all rejoice in a month unlike any other. She's self-denying, and serves an applaudable purpose. She lives to make us feel good. She's the most philanthropic plant that I know. Always, will I be proud to say I knew her. This is the life of a christmas tree.
As you can garner from the paragraph above, Scott, Bonnie, and I basked in Christmas revelry last weekend. We spent an inexcusable amount of time in a christmas tree lot, not being served by a group of Oregon refugee's (peep the pics, I thought they were from Nashville), who while selling iconic trees were also selling persian cats from their RV. I almost bought my Dad one, I would have relished in seeing what he'd do with a cat. We finally landed a beauty, though not everyone felt the same way we did. Lurch, as Scott calls him, claimed, "Ahh, you guys going with the charlie brown tree". They really know how to make us customers feel happy with our purchases. We took it home, gave it a place to stay, ornamented it, and draped it with blue and white lights, apparently that's Jewish? One weekend later our house feels more like a home. I, along with the rest of the world's population, enjoy these end of the year moments.