When I was little we would drive up to Northern Arizona the weekend after Thanksgiving to cut down our Christmas tree. It usually ended up lopsided, too big, and too fat for the house and sometimes they looked a little bit like Charlie Brown's. But it is so hard to judge size when you are out in the forest. But they were always special because we had picked it out.
Let's see, there was the year that we had a REALLY thirsty tree. It drank a lot of water. Unfortunately, it was actually the carpet that was 'drinking' the water and not the tree. The stopper in the tree-holder-thing had come out and so the water was actually all over the living room floor. Yep, the day was spent soaking it all up.
Oh, or there is the year of the falling Christmas tree. It fell over not just once, but twice. And then we tied it down with bricks. They were 'new' ornaments that year.
And then there are the ornaments. My brother, sister, and I always race to see who gets to put there hand-made ornaments from elementary school in the front and center position. There are the ornaments made out of marshmallows, paper plate angels, and shredded wheat wreaths. Ah, the fond memories. There is also the ornament made out of cookies that someone took a bite out of when it was like 12 years old. Gross, but it sure makes for a good story. :)
But I love the memories. Aren't they what make this time so special?
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