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Living in the country and on a farm sometimes money is tight and you have to really think about how you spend your money. Our tradition since we moved here six years ago is to search the woods for a Christmas tree. My husband dreads it so and complains about it because he grew up with the fake tree. I grew up with the fresh smell of pine and spruce in our house and only rich people could afford the fake trees anyways. Sure we had plenty of Charlie Brown trees but who cares, it was the adventure of finding one and cutting it down.

The first few years the kids enjoyed it and we spent many hours looking in the woods for the perfect tree. My husband’s thought was why cut down a 20 ft tree and just harvest the 6 feet of the top of the tree. Sorry to say that is about the only way to get a natural tree.

Now the two older kids 17 & 15 find spending time with the family boring, “Why can’t we buy a tree”, “It’s cold out here, pick anything, just cut a birch tree down, does it matter? So I took my 9-year-old son out, he still saw the adventure of finding the tree exciting. We found one right away and not too deep in the blackberry bushes. So we planned on cutting it down on a Sunday. Sunday’s here in Maine are the best bet since we still have hunting season for about another week. Sunday finally came and our plans changed since a big winter storm was coming in and my husband had to leave for work early. Well I guess we could wait until the next weekend but the tree wasn’t all that big around I’m sure we could cut it down ourselves. So as soon as my husband was off I told the kids my brilliant plans to which the older kids were not as excited as my 9 year old and I were. They complained about how cold it was and it would take forever and they didn’t want to walk very far. Well great news it isn’t too far a couple of fields away and it isn’t all that big around. So we dug around in the barn for two hatchets and we were off.

We got to the tree and of course I had to hear about the stupid blackberry bushes and why didn’t someone make a trail. I didn’t say all that much other than muttering why do teenagers have to be such party poopers.

My youngest the gung ho outdoor enthusiast wanted to start the cut, which he chopped for about five minutes. I think the older kids started thinking; if we chop really fast we can get done faster. My daughter started the next round and she chopped for another 5 minutes and then my oldest son continued. They all took turns and we were laughing and joking. Finally we watched the last chop and the tree started swaying and fell. We chopped it to where we thought was the right length and the two older kids dragged it home. My youngest a little disappointed on not being the one that got the last chop was a little upset and said so. I told him I saved the most important job was some one needed to take the handsaw and make the end even to fit into the stand. His little face brightened and he was so happy about his important job.

I guess dragging your kids kicking and screaming to make a happy memory was worth the aggravation because during that time of teamwork and togetherness, no one cared about how cold it was, or how many thorns were sticking into your legs. We were as one as a family working together for the same goal, sure it ends up looking like a Charlie Brown tree all the same but being perfect didn’t matter. What mattered is we did it together and that is good enough for me.