One of my favorite Christmas traditions is making the trek up north to Drysdale’s tree farm and chopping down our very own Christmas tree. It’s one of those fond childhood memories - warm and fuzzy happiness feelings of tractor rides out into the fields, crunchy snow, multiple layers, thermal underwear, the smell of evergreen and hot cocoa.
Last year was my first married Christmas and first time making the trek with the hubby. Now the tradition continues as our own family tradition too. Unfortunately, this year’s experience was probably the least Christmas-y one ever - double digit temperatures, no pre-existing snow, pouring rain, mud mud MUD. This time there were no double layers, not even the need for a hat or gloves, FALL not winter jackets, and RAINBOOTS not snowboots. It was enough to make you feel like ‘twas the twilight zone. Christmas in April is what it felt like. For reals.
But despite all that, a holly jolly time was had. And we can look back on it as the year with the rain and mud and all that fa la laaaaa. And we still got a beautiful tree that now is filling our home with that Christmas-iest of smells.
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree!
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