Having grown up in Maine, picking out a Christmas tree has always been quite the traditional family event. My father and mother own many acres of woods. Each year, we would bundle up and go out into the woods as a family. We would sing carols tromping through the snow and see who could pick out the best tree -my father mother, older sister, twin sister and I. Someone would always suggest a tree that was 25 feet tall. My father would reply, "I'm not going to cut a cord of wood for a Christmas tree." It always seemed like the best trees were always the furthest from our starting point. I still went to Maine to pick out a tree with my parents and sisters for many years after having left home.
As time has gone by, now I have my own family. My husband, the little guy and I now find our own Christmas tree. We only own an acre of land at our home in NH. The last few years, we have traveled to the next town over to a nice gentleman's home. He could be Santa Claus. He plants trees in his backyard just for Christmas. The little guy loved walking through the wondrous field of trees. The ride there was beautiful after the ice storm. Everything in sight glistened in the sun. I will always fondly remember my childhood traditions with my family growing up; but I enjoy starting new ones with my own family.