When I was a kid, we always had a Real Christmas Tree, one that we chopped down as a family during a yearly event that I remember very fondly but was likely nonetheless filled with a lot of whining, because that is just what happens when I get cold.  During the first three years of our marriage, Mike and I had a Fake Christmas Tree, mostly because Mike thought it was easier (which it was) and also equally as festive (which it definitely was not).   However, nigh upon three Christmases ago, I was able to convince him that we needed the feel of snow under our feet and the thrill of the hunt and also subsequently the aroma of evergreen permeating our house, so we put on our boots and our mittens and our (okay, my) sock rabbit hat and headed off to Benjamin Tree Farm, where we drank free cider and ate free cookies and chopped down our tree.  I suppose technically Mike chopped down the tree, while I stood close by to offer encouraging comments like “Looks good, sweetie!” and “Are you almost done?  My feet are cold …” but nonetheless I consider it a team effort, and a successful one at that. 

Last year, we didn’t decorate for Christmas at all, because we arrived home from Australia in the middle of December and between unpacking and wrapping presents and dealing with the Post Vacation Letdown, we didn’t really have the time or the inclination.  There were no lights or ornaments or candles, but I think we did dig out both the dog’s jingle bell collar and my much-maligned Garth Brooks Christmas CD, so there was still some joy in Whoville last year.

Which brings us to this year, where we have delayed our pilgrimage to the tree farm due to lack of snow (I mean, really, it has been scientifically proven by no fewer than 100 scientists working around the clock that it is impossible to get into the festive spirit when the ground is still all brown and muddy) and are now suffering from the awful realization that we may have waited a hair too long, because there is approximately 57 feet of snow out there, with more falling every minute, and I do not own boots high enough to protect my ankles from this sudden yet inevitable onslaught of Canadian winter.  And yet, we will persevere, and return with a tree on Saturday that is both perfect and perfectly festive.  Stay tuned for a full report.