O, Christmas tree

Seven years ago, when Brian & I were preparing for our first Christmas together as a married couple, he suggested that we purchase a real tree. Absolutely not, I told him. We already had an artificial tree (one I bought during college), and I couldn't see any reason to spend the money on a real tree when we were just starting out. What if, he suggested, he found some money that we hadn't already accounted for in our budget? Then could we get a tree? Sure, I agree. Good luck with that one. Not long after, Brian emerged from our spare bedroom with a nearly-full change jar and a big goofy grin. He found his tree money: nearly $55.

We bought a real tree that first Christmas, and one of our very own holiday traditions was born. Each year since, we've put our change from the year toward a tree from Prairie Pines Christmas Tree Farm. We headed out Sunday afternoon to find our very own Virginia Pine. We named it Clark, after the scene from National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, in which Clark Griswold picks a too-big tree for his family's living room. (Brian has a tendency to do the same.) He most closely guessed how much change we'd accumulated this year, which meant he had final say on which tree we brought home.

We rode on a horse-drawn flatbed to various lots, but found our tree near where we had parked.


It took us about an hour to find our perfect tree:


We counted the rings, and it seems to us that our tree is 13 years old. It's cool to think how it's been growing nearby since I was 16 years old, waiting until now to become part of our Christmas celebrations.









It stands nine feet tall. (We were able to take it home in our Escape ... barely.)