Okay, best Christmas tree yet. Douglas fir. Sufficiently Charlie Brown. Lots of holes, soft needles (you say this cannot be so, but you would be astonished). A good two feet of trunk length before the branches begin, complete with deer rut markings—all the more ideal for keeping little G hands from reaching destructible decorations. Tall, tall. Eight feet at least. Single-branch straight-up top, perfect for felted Christmas star. And did I mention the price? $15 baby! We wandered the woods and made it ours. We’d heard from a fellow professor of John’s that you could score this kind of deal (last year we paid $40), and we were ready to scrounge. Goes to show how different people’s taste can be. The helpful tree man we met at the gate said the $15 trees were probably only good for making wreaths to place at grave sites. Little did he know our affinity for cemeteries.
This was the first year Jonah really got into finding the right tree. The first he could (mostly) read the tag prices. He bounded from tree to tree—“You gotta see this! O, [1 second pause]…My Gosh.” He loved them all. John was partial to a spreading, juniper-like number. But where to put the ornaments? Would it even fit our front window?
A pictorial follows. I’ve been messing around with a new photo app I picked up free. Forgive the over/underexposure. It’s a little gimmicky and a lot of fun. Nevermind that it’s all a trick—digital pretending to be film and all. The play is worth it.