The rest of the story …
When the boys and I went to get our real Christmas tree, it didn’t go exactly as I’d thought.
First, when we got to the farm, the kind man who greeted us showed us four different types of trees. He then gave me directions around his lot on where I could find the different types, handed me a measuring stick to measure the heights of the trees, and gave me a saw. Wait. A saw? I thought they were going to cut down for me. No … no … apparently I was going to cut it down.
So, off we went. I recall thinking to myself: Can I actually cut down a tree? What if I can’t? Oh, you can do this. It’s just a tree. How hard can it be?
Well, not that bad actually. We found the type we wanted, and then found the tree we wanted. Then I went to sawing it down. The boys thought I needed help, but I eventually got it. My knees got muddy and my hands were rubbed (a little) raw, but I succeeded in felling the tree and was quite proud of myself for doing a new, hard thing and for (hopefully) impressing the boys.
We all helped drag our tree to the truck. I carried into the house. I strung it with lights, and the boys added ornaments.
It seemed tall at the lot, but compared to our 9 foot artificial tree of years past, it really wasn’t that large. It held less than half of the ornaments we usually display.
It smelled wonderful, and was kinda nice just to do something new and different.