The Tree Hunter

I have previously told a story about how Christmas trees worked at my house when I was a kid. You can read that here. That, though, is not the way Christmas trees work in my house as an adult.

For a couple of years, I suppose, after my wife and I got married, we bought our Christmas tree at a tree lot, but that didn't last. At some point, we fell back into the tradition she had had as a child, which was to go to a tree farm and hunt and kill a tree every year. I have been that hunter.

Not that we all didn't go, but I have traditionally been the one to have final say on the tree. For many reasons:

1. I have the highest standards of tree quality (and if you did go back and read that story, you will understand why).
2. I'm the one that has to deal with the tree and all of its various needs.
3. Because of #2, the tree has to meet certain... safety criteria. For instance, one year, we got a tree that was entirely to stabby, and it scratched me up and caused me to have some kind of allergic reaction. It wasn't fun.
4. I have the highest standards of tree quality. (Did I say that already? I don't think I did.)

So we'd wander around the tree farm, and various children would suggest trees that were too tall or too wide and my wife would suggest trees that had holes in them or had some other defect. Eventually, I'd wander away from them and find a tree; wait around for a while for one of them to come looking for me; when that didn't happen, try yelling for one of them; when that didn't work, venture only so far away as I could still see the tree and look for them and yell some more; when no one responded, mark the tree in some way and move to a better vantage point and yell some more. The yelling almost never worked, but I would finally catch sight of someone and send whoever it was to gather everyone to where I was. They'd all look at the tree I'd found and, yes, agree that that was indeed the tree, and I'd kill it and have it bagged, and we'd take it home.

I've gotten pretty good at locating trees that meet our (my) specifications. So much so that the last couple or few years I've been told, "We can't just take the first tree you find. We have to look more." So we'd look and, then, come back to that first tree, and I'd kill it.

My oldest is about to turn 18 which somehow translated into him getting to be the tree killer this year.

It started innocently enough. I sent him to select the tree killing weapon.

That's it there in his hand as he's arguing about what tree to kill. Okay, that's probably not what's going on there, but I don't actually remember what's going on there even though I took the picture, so they're arguing over what tree to kill. Yes, I'm writing the history as I go along (but at least I'm telling you what I'm changing). When he brought the weapon back, I went to take it from him, and I received the "no, I've got it" response. Usually, that response to anything directly precedes some disaster or another as whoever is saying it shows that, in fact, no, he does not got it. Yes, you could say I was nervous at that point.

So we started up the hill, and, almost immediately, I found the perfect tree. In fact, it was so perfect that there was a lag before my wife said, "No, we can't just take the first tree you find. We have to look more." So we noted the spot and continued hunting. Next, my wife found a tree. A tree that I vetoed because it had a bad branch. But she liked the bad branch, only agreeing with me on the veto because we, also, couldn't just take the first tree she found.

We wandered around and, somehow, I became nothing more than the cameraman. I did wander off and found a couple of other good trees, not as good as the first one, but no one else really liked them. Mostly, I just took pictures.

The other son. I think he's using the Force on this tree.

The lone red tree on a hill of green.

Because persimmons are weird.

Eventually, we ended up back down at that first tree, which everyone agreed was perfect. Until my wife said it was "too perfect." By that point, though, I was just the cameraman, so I just followed along taking pictures as we went looking for the tree with the bad branch. And that is the tree everyone agreed we should get... because it wasn't perfect.

Oldest Son went to work with his weapon.

He's helped before, but he's never done a whole tree by himself. Let's just say his technique is lacking. It took him a looong time to bring that tree down. And he wouldn't let me help or show him anything, either; he just kept saying, "I've got this."

But nothing bad happened. I mean, it took a while, but there were no severed limbs or anything. Only a severed trunk. And, soon, we had my Oldest's first kill.

And, yes, I should have taken some pictures of him carrying the tree down the hill, but, for some reason, I just didn't. And, yes, we carry our trees down the hill. He did ask after he cut it down, "Where's the cart for the tree?" I just shrugged and said, "I always carry the tree, so we didn't bring one. Do you want me to carry it?" Can you guess his response? "No, I've got this."

And he did.

NOTES:
In case you missed it, over the weekend:
I did a guest post over at THe GaL iN THe BLue MaSK all about how writing is easy or it's not. Click the link to go and read it.

Also, Konstanz Silverbow, over at No Thought 2 Small, is giving away some books for Christmas. Day four is "Christmas on the Corner"! Drop by her site to sign up to win and check out the other books being offered while you're there.