That Time of the Year

The trees are bare, the frost is thick every morning, and the snow has yet to fly in earnest; it's that awkward time of year between seasons where fall is on its way out but winter hasn't officially begun.  Once Thanksgiving is over, Christmas always seems to sneak up on me.  December is the shortest month of the year in my book, whatever the calendar says, especially coupled with the incredibly short days.  Then again, I could be up in Alaska like some people I know...

This year we decided to go out and find ourselves a real honest-to-goodness Christmas tree.  The Christmas cactus served its purpose well last time, but since we've been established here for an entire year (what a scary thought!), we figured it was time to revisit some family traditions.  Namely, sneaking out into the woods in search of the perfect tree.  We loaded the whole family into the trusty, rusty Subaru and headed up into the hills.

Luna's been on a couple hikes before, but this was her first cross-country adventure.  She was in hog heaven, following at Bubba's heels and proudly coming around to show me all the interesting things she found (rusty cans, sticks, pine cones...).  At one point I remembered the camera that was still sitting in the car, and she accompanied me on a brisk trot to the vehicle and back.  When she gets a little bigger she's going to be the perfect marathon-training partner.  Before long we found a good looking arboreal specimen.

 Carl went to town with the hacksaw and made quick work of it.

 A proud hunter with his catch.

 It was a lovely day out in the woods.

 Once we got the tree home the fun really began.  You wouldn't think it would be that hard to find a container that would successfully hold both tree and water; neither did we, and that's where we were painfully wrong.  After three tries, water spilled, obscenities hurled, and a tree chucked off the back porch, a good old pickle jar came to the rescue and saved Christmas.  A very happy holiday season to all!