Maybe you didn't marry a former Christmas tree farm trimmer/shaper. Maybe your annual selection of a Douglas Fir is expeditiously handled. Maybe your first 3-5 holiday seasons with your spouse weren't characterized by 3-5 hour treks down the town's main drag in pursuit of an acceptable holiday tree only to come home with nothing roped to your car roof.
Then it happened. Nearly 10 years ago now, alongside a Chevron station, Scott spotted him. With a multi-colored light adorned trailer and a sign painted "Local Trees Cut Daily," here was a man who held the same standards for conically cut trees as my beloved. Somehow unsurprising, he's a fellow father of twins.
When a few years ago the Chevron went out of business, pre-season panic set in. Thankfully, we weren't alone in our cult of the perfectly cut Christmas tree...and we were easily able to discover the newly situated source of the all-too-elusive Superlative Scotch Pine.
When we drove up to his trailer Saturday night, we were greeted as old friends. At this point, we are.
Our tradition of tree acquisition Makes My Monday.
Want to play along with Makes My Monday?
Share on your blog what warms your week's beginning: Post a picture and tell the tale. After you do, be sure to link back here to share in the web-wide Monday fun. Go visit other celebrants, and don't forget to leave a comment when you do...comments are always Monday makers!
