Sunday, December 7, 2008

Timber!

Some people call New Hampshire during the holidays, "God's Country." This reference is probably not because God likes to buy cheap cigarettes, cheap liquor or the other tax free shopping available in this "Live Free Or Die" state. It's more due to the fact that it's damned right pretty around here during the holidays.

Deb and I shared a special moment yesterday. For the first time in our relationship we sought out and cut down our own Christmas Tree. Now you may be saying that this should be a family event, but the truth is our children have secretly met and reached consensus that their parents are now officially the uncoolest people this, and any side of the Mississippi. They wanted nothing to do with getting the Christmas tree. It's almost like they believe the sole purpose of Christmas is to get presents and eat.

It wasn't a farm, but someone's actual residence that advertised "cut your own trees". We drove down a dirt driveway and found a quaint house with a quaint gentleman standing in his driveway. He had a saw horse with a tin tea canister that had a hand written sign that stated, "pay here." There was also a small selection of hand saws to choose from.

I have to admit that the 27 acres were scenic. It's probably corny to make reference to Norman Rockwell, but that's what it was like. We held hands as we walked by the pond and toward the selection of soft blue pines. Debbie asked me to imagine she and I retired in a similar spot with dogs, camp fires, and all the peace and tranquility that goes along with such places.

We browsed the selection of pines and found the sparsley branched tree that reflected Deb's vision. Again, the classic New England scenery, the hand holding, and the light banter all made for a very romantic atmosphere. Unfortunately this all came to an end when I cut down the tree and dropped it on my wife's head. If this wasn't bad enough, I bonked her in the head again when I was carrying it in the house.

It's the beginning of a Cristmas I'll never forget, and she'll never remember.

1 comment:

Mott TheHoople said...

You bonked Debbie on the head? No wonder George pees on your gym bag.