Drawing A Line In The Pine Needles - Update

As I noted t'other day, yesterday afternoon we packed up the family and went out to our friends' Christmas tree farm to do a little hunting and sawing.

I mistakenly placed the farm in the Shenandoah in my earlier post. In fact, it just seems that it's that far out. The place actually sits on the east slopes of the Blue Ridge and has a beautiful view of the Loudoun Valley. Nonetheless, I do believe I easily set a record for distance traveled to select a tree this year.

Normally, I'd put in a plug right about here, highly recommending to anybody in the Dee Cee area that it's worth the trip to go out and visit. But, apparently, this is not necessary - the Missus and I were astonished by how many people were still there late on a Sunday afternoon. A good many of them seemed to be from around Leesburg, just down the road, but we saw a fair number of Fairfax County stickers and even a few Dee Cee and Mur'land plates as well.

I have to confess that I've never been to a cut-yer-own place before. This had the same carnival-like atmosphere as some of the pick-yer-own apple orchards I've been to, with the added bonus of kids racing up and down the slopes brandishing hacksaws. (And speaking of which, it seems the sight of ol' Dad industriously cutting down a monster Douglas fir was a source of profound amusement to the Llama-ettes, as well as the Missus. Indeed, she made me stand for a picture after I was done with one foot on the neck of the thing. Go figure.)

The other bonus of the place was watching people haul their catches back to the barn. I love the brutally simple concept: you want that tree two hundred yards down the slope? Here's a rope - go get it. The efforts of the various combinations of parents, children and dogs setting to this task were quite entertaining, especially with the larger trees.

And here, at least, the Llama-ettes made themselves moderately useful: at least on the downhill slope, the two younger gels were able to pull our tree along under their own steam. Unable to resist the urge, I mortified several passers-bye by keeping up a stream of drill sergeant-flavored comments such as, "All right, you flyweights, put your backs into it!"

I think I also mortified the Missus after we paid for the tree. The barn where they ring you up is a fair pace up the lane from the parking lot. The farm runs a shuttle consisting of a tractor-towed wagon, in which you can place your tree and hitch a lift yourself. For some reason, the idea of using this shuttle did not appeal to me, so after we paid, I hoisted our ten foot tree on to my shoulder and started walking. "Wait, aren't you going on the wagon?" asked the Missus. "Ha!" I replied in a carrying voice, "Wagons are for nancy-boys!"

As Basil Fawlty would say, "Just trying to enjoy myself."

Anyhoo, we delivered the tree back to Orgle Manor safe and sound. I do believe it's one of the largest we've ever had. When we got home, I realized that going through all the trouble of setting it up in the garage and then moving it into the house later on would be ridiculous, so instead I slapped the stand on it and moved it directly into the living room. However, I absolutely put my foot down about not decorating until at least next weekend, so I feel that I can retire from that particular field with the honors of battle.

Oh, and speaking of that, we've always put the tree in the same corner of the same room. As we were driving home last evening, I idly asked the Missus if we should think about trying it somewhere else this year. She replied with one incredulous word: "Change?"

Ah, crankiness about holiday traditions. I can feel the Dark Side flowing in her.