One of my favorite traditions is choosing a Christmas tree from the farm.  We’ve taken my little guys to hunt for a Christmas tree every year–even when they were tiny babes in our arms, wrapped and wrapped and wrapped against the winter chill.  After choosing just the right tree–not too tall, not too fat, just the right shade of green–we ride back to the barn for hot chocolate and a few minutes by the pot belly stove.  The “shop” isn’t fancy.  The hot chocolate is just a 50 cent Styrofoam cup with powder and blazing hot water, but we love every minute!

This year we selected a lovely blue spruce.  Maybe others are bothered by pine needles and sap in the house, but I adore waking up on the day after the tree goes up.  I love to come downstairs and take a big breath of piney, Christmas air.  The smell is fresh, clean, and almost spicey.  My “helpers” put on all the ornaments themselves.  In other words, all ornaments are on the lower three feet of the tree.  I love it!  (Though I confess that I did spread out the pretties later.)