Picking a Christmas tree is a time honoured tradition in the Gaede family dating back decades, possibly further, since my Grandfather was always very proud of the trees he’d pick when I was a kid.
There’s much searching, spinning, poking, gazing, chin-scratching and gut-checking to finding that perfect tree. I always feel that, even when I find one that seems close, there’s an elusive majestic specimen just hiding around the corner.
But today was different. I don’t know if the stars were aligned in my favour or if I was just lucky, but I knew that very first tree that I laid my hands on was the one. I had to fight ever urge in my body to keep looking, to at least pick up a few more trunks, tap them on the ground and see how many needles dropped off.
I’d booked off at least an hour in my head for the search and found myself walking out within 5 minutes to my car. Within the hour I was sawing off the end cap of the trunk while Audrey watched in wonder. And as if Christmas miracles were going cheap today, Shauna even let us replace the white tree lights with multicoloured ones for the first time since we’ve lived together, much to my and Audrey’s delight.
Oh Tannenbaum indeed.