This time we drove down the street. To the infamously overpriced tree lot across from the freeway, due to being short on time and stocked with a backseat full of over anxious boys in the season's first required flannel layering. Where the after effects of fresh rain made for a wet, muddy romp with them running around fighting sticks like swords, naturally one ending in tears and where one of us (per tradition) spent a good twenty minutes pacing the space of the lot, complaining about the money it cost for a decently sized tree (nearly "twice" that of our regular buy at Home Depot, for those wondering)
We found one, finally. After kicking around our feet, debating on ideal shape and size and scolding little boys who refused to let up on such passionate tree lot war games. Leon studied every limb, at every angle. Rex insisted on the biggest and Arlo, as expected, proved most practical which is how we came to agree on one we all liked, strapped it on the hood of the Land Rover just like last year. Smiling because the awkward girl in charge of the overpriced tree slanging forced us to gather close to snap a family photo of all six of us when she saw me trying to wrangle them on my own. And now thanks to her good will and urging, we just might have what will most likely be our one and only chance at this year's (always last minute) Christmas card photo.
For me, the very fact of it is well worth a little extra dough. Even if our tree is in all honestly, already looking slightly limp, maybe a little dry, and by all means a tad unpromising with still 12 days of Christmas left on the books.
Now if only we could find a good spare hour to properly trim it before it up and shrinks away . . .