We have a place that we go to every year on the highway. It is a place where burly Canadians come and display their Christmas trees. I look forward to finding that perfect tree… it’s a bit of a treasure hunt. Everyone has their own style. I look for nice balance and proportions, a little bushiness, and good height. But my mom is completely different. She likes those really sparse trees with fewer branches that almost look like a piece of abstract art.
After one year with an art deco tree, the rest of us rioted and so we went back to the old way.
We usually look at a lot of trees. We like to be thorough.
The Canadian guys lift a lot of trees for us. But they don’t seem to mind. We’re regulars.
Sometimes, if you stand pensively, it may just come to you…
Or if you stand looking perturbed it might also…
Or the jolly Canadian might just point you in the right direction.
…and solve all your problems in one lift of a tree.
See?! His enthusiasm is infectious. How can you not like this tree?
He is beginning to win Gordon over… his quizzical expression is just beginning to soften.
(Pardon me while I change the white balance on my camera…)
OK, where was I…
M & G did a very careful inspection of this big tree. It was very big. Maybe 12 feet.
But we went for it.
The jolly Canadian got out his measuring tools.
…made a fresh cut, and then did this rodeo thing on the tree…
…maybe it’s a Canadian thing but he enjoyed himself.
“Do we water it right away? Do we add anything to the water?” we asked.
And he replied, “No sugar, no 7-Up, just plain water!”
I concluded that Canadians might be the jolliest fellows I have ever met.
And so we brought her home, this big tree of ours, gave her just plain water, twisted her around a bit…
And here she stands, waiting for a good tree trimming party to dress her.
