Today my wife and I headed to our favorite Christmas Tree Farm in Beaver County to secure our annual treasure. This year's search had a bit of a pall over it as my wife had some medical tests the other day and and we had not yet gotten the results. She was facing a potentially serious medical issue and we were both very concerned. Thankfully, upon our return home, we received a call from the Doctor that the initial tests indicate a likely benign condition, although there is another follow up test in a couple of weeks so there is still a bit of apprehension. Anyway, back to the tree search.
Last year we agreed in advance, at my wife's request, that we would down size our tree from our normal 9-12 footer to a 6 footer. I won't rehash last year's tree saga but my wife, despite her request, fell in love with a 10 foot tree and that is what we took home. This year, over the past week, she again repeated the "downsize to 6 foot mantra" and said there should be no exceptions. I agreed. As we pulled into the Farm parking lot she said "6 foot...7 tops" and, again, I agreed.
The knee problems that plagued my wife during last years search have waxed and waned but lately have hobbled her to the extent she often uses a cane when walking any distance. Because of this, it was agreed that when we got to the Farm, we would look at their fresh cut trees in the barn and, if we found nothing, I would go into the fields alone. When we arrived there were very few people about, but one of the workers asked what we were looking for and my wife said "a 6 or 7 foot Blue Spruce". She added, "are there any in the barn?" The worker politely said, "there aren't any 6 or 7's in the barn, but there are a few fresh cut trees of different sizes there so why don't you go look". When we got the barn we saw a dozen trees, each about 3 or 4 foot high. My wife quipped we'd need the whole dozen just to use all our ornaments. OK, I now knew I had to head to the fields, so I asked the worker to take me to where the 6/7 foot Blue Spruces were and he asked "You got time to fly to Colorado? We have nothing left that small". My wife audibly sighed, but I said, "OK, take me to the tall Blue Spruces." My wife said, take me too. I said, honey, your knees are bad, but she said "I will use my cane, please get it for me", and so I went to the car and...no cane. I yelled "honey, where did you put your cane" and she said "I thought you brought it". "Well, I said, that settles it. I will go to the field alone". She looked at me with sad eyes and said "but I want to go" and so I agreed on the condition she stand still and watch me search.
Getting her into the hay wagon was a bit of a challenge with her bad knees. She is not overweight but I didn't want to make her knee problems any worse. After some unsuccessful efforts with me in the wagon, pulling her up, we decided to have me push from behind. So there we were, an old geezer pushing on his wife's behind with both hands, to get her up the steps of a hay wagon. Quite the sight. The hay guy asked if I needed help. Now my wife, despite her age, has a very nice behind, and I'm not sure if that was the reason for his asking, but I said "thanks, but its not that hard for me". He said "They have pills for that" and my wife laughed. I was not amused. With that I gave her one large "tush push" and into the wagon she went.
The hay ride was no more than 3 minutes but uphill, over very rough terrain, and with tractor fumes gagging us the whole way. When we got to the Blue Spruce field, every tree was 9 foot or taller. I asked the guy if there were any smaller and he said no, but we could just cut the top 6 or 7 feet off any tree we wanted and they would not charge us for the taller tree. It was kind of surreal, because there were dozens of tree stumps, 3,4,5 feet tall, where people had taken the top off. It looked like a war zone. I started walking about and my wife said "wait for me". I said, honey, how about you wait here and I will call you when I find a good one. No, she said, I want to help you find it. OK, so we are now moving at her hobble speed, maybe 1/4 mile an hour. Fortunately, after about 10 minutes, my wife, having moved maybe 40 feet, found a terrific tree that looked to be 12 feet tall, but to take the top 6 feet, I would be cutting it at eye level and that was not my idea of fun. I suggested we take the top 10 feet leaving only a 2 foot stump, and cut the final 4 feet off when we got home. My wife agreed, and so the hay wagon guy helped me put it on the side bailer and, with the tree loaded, it was now time to load my wife. I said, "Honey, why don't you just tag along beside" and she said "why don't I just smack you upside your head?" We both laughed and I again put my hands on her butt. I told her we should practice this "hands on butt" technique every day to get ready for next year. We could call it "hay wagon practice". The hay wagon guy heard me and laughed very loudly. Then, so did both of us.
OK, the tree is now at home, in the garage, acclimating. Open the garage door and it smells like heaven on earth. My wife just told me that, since we already have it home, we might as well just cut a few inches off and have another 10 foot beauty. And.... so we shall. A 6 foot tree has, once again, become 10. Now the real fun begins. The lights go on tomorrow and then the ornaments.
We have our tree, but more importantly, we have our memories of the quest. This year, as with all those that preceded it, we have moments we will never forget. All the years we went with our two daughters in tow, both in awe over the magic of it all. The time I fell into a large puddle while getting off the hay wagon. The day a bird flew out of the tree as I was cutting it down and scared my wife half to death. The search for a perfect tree through 6 inches of snow and wind chills in the 20's. The "tush push". Memories. So many memories. I pray each of you will make happy memories this Holiday Season and for many, many more.
Merry Christmas to all and may God bless us, every one.
Last year we agreed in advance, at my wife's request, that we would down size our tree from our normal 9-12 footer to a 6 footer. I won't rehash last year's tree saga but my wife, despite her request, fell in love with a 10 foot tree and that is what we took home. This year, over the past week, she again repeated the "downsize to 6 foot mantra" and said there should be no exceptions. I agreed. As we pulled into the Farm parking lot she said "6 foot...7 tops" and, again, I agreed.
The knee problems that plagued my wife during last years search have waxed and waned but lately have hobbled her to the extent she often uses a cane when walking any distance. Because of this, it was agreed that when we got to the Farm, we would look at their fresh cut trees in the barn and, if we found nothing, I would go into the fields alone. When we arrived there were very few people about, but one of the workers asked what we were looking for and my wife said "a 6 or 7 foot Blue Spruce". She added, "are there any in the barn?" The worker politely said, "there aren't any 6 or 7's in the barn, but there are a few fresh cut trees of different sizes there so why don't you go look". When we got the barn we saw a dozen trees, each about 3 or 4 foot high. My wife quipped we'd need the whole dozen just to use all our ornaments. OK, I now knew I had to head to the fields, so I asked the worker to take me to where the 6/7 foot Blue Spruces were and he asked "You got time to fly to Colorado? We have nothing left that small". My wife audibly sighed, but I said, "OK, take me to the tall Blue Spruces." My wife said, take me too. I said, honey, your knees are bad, but she said "I will use my cane, please get it for me", and so I went to the car and...no cane. I yelled "honey, where did you put your cane" and she said "I thought you brought it". "Well, I said, that settles it. I will go to the field alone". She looked at me with sad eyes and said "but I want to go" and so I agreed on the condition she stand still and watch me search.
Getting her into the hay wagon was a bit of a challenge with her bad knees. She is not overweight but I didn't want to make her knee problems any worse. After some unsuccessful efforts with me in the wagon, pulling her up, we decided to have me push from behind. So there we were, an old geezer pushing on his wife's behind with both hands, to get her up the steps of a hay wagon. Quite the sight. The hay guy asked if I needed help. Now my wife, despite her age, has a very nice behind, and I'm not sure if that was the reason for his asking, but I said "thanks, but its not that hard for me". He said "They have pills for that" and my wife laughed. I was not amused. With that I gave her one large "tush push" and into the wagon she went.
The hay ride was no more than 3 minutes but uphill, over very rough terrain, and with tractor fumes gagging us the whole way. When we got to the Blue Spruce field, every tree was 9 foot or taller. I asked the guy if there were any smaller and he said no, but we could just cut the top 6 or 7 feet off any tree we wanted and they would not charge us for the taller tree. It was kind of surreal, because there were dozens of tree stumps, 3,4,5 feet tall, where people had taken the top off. It looked like a war zone. I started walking about and my wife said "wait for me". I said, honey, how about you wait here and I will call you when I find a good one. No, she said, I want to help you find it. OK, so we are now moving at her hobble speed, maybe 1/4 mile an hour. Fortunately, after about 10 minutes, my wife, having moved maybe 40 feet, found a terrific tree that looked to be 12 feet tall, but to take the top 6 feet, I would be cutting it at eye level and that was not my idea of fun. I suggested we take the top 10 feet leaving only a 2 foot stump, and cut the final 4 feet off when we got home. My wife agreed, and so the hay wagon guy helped me put it on the side bailer and, with the tree loaded, it was now time to load my wife. I said, "Honey, why don't you just tag along beside" and she said "why don't I just smack you upside your head?" We both laughed and I again put my hands on her butt. I told her we should practice this "hands on butt" technique every day to get ready for next year. We could call it "hay wagon practice". The hay wagon guy heard me and laughed very loudly. Then, so did both of us.
OK, the tree is now at home, in the garage, acclimating. Open the garage door and it smells like heaven on earth. My wife just told me that, since we already have it home, we might as well just cut a few inches off and have another 10 foot beauty. And.... so we shall. A 6 foot tree has, once again, become 10. Now the real fun begins. The lights go on tomorrow and then the ornaments.
We have our tree, but more importantly, we have our memories of the quest. This year, as with all those that preceded it, we have moments we will never forget. All the years we went with our two daughters in tow, both in awe over the magic of it all. The time I fell into a large puddle while getting off the hay wagon. The day a bird flew out of the tree as I was cutting it down and scared my wife half to death. The search for a perfect tree through 6 inches of snow and wind chills in the 20's. The "tush push". Memories. So many memories. I pray each of you will make happy memories this Holiday Season and for many, many more.
Merry Christmas to all and may God bless us, every one.
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