Every thing in its season.
There was a time in the Suneson Family that when the days shorten to almost their lowest ebb, and the air chilled and the leaves upon the neighborhood trees browned and began to fall before the cold breezes dropping upon us from the north, that we could look to the coming of the Christmastide. This Season of Christmastide, heralded by quickly fading afternoon light brought with it the illumination of the 1970's era strings of blue and green Christmas lights strung from our eaves outside our home. While inside the parents would bring up the subject of planning when to take our annual trip to Kadee Farms as a family to select and cut our Christmas tree. Usually a weekend was chosen, not too soon so as to not have the cut tree dry out on us way before Santa arrived, and hopefully not too late to still have a good selection from which to choose the perfect (or best under the circumstances) specimen.
For me, the hunt was the best part of the ritual in finding an evergreen to bring home. Each family member would fan out through the rows of Virginia Pine and shout out to the others if they found a worthy candidate to consider. The clan gathered and discussed; height, color, neatness, did it have a good top and have a straight trunk (no fork). Was this the one? A vote was called, and we either unsheathed our bow saw, or we kept going to find and cut a better one.
Once all had taken a turn in pushing the saw blade through the sappy trunk, the pine was felled and taken back to Kadee Farmhouse. While our Christmas tree was shaken to remove much of the dead needles before being bound by a nylon net and mounted and tied to the roof of the SUV, we gathered around the crock pot of heated spiced apple cider and sipped. This was how it was for nearly two decades. The 60 mile return to Garland, mostly through rural Texas, usually had us stopping for a barbecue dinner at some smoke shack in one of the towns between there and here.
This year, Christmas 2014 the family gathered for Christmas, but not until Inga flew in from Portland, Oregon late in December, held in place by work obligations and adult-world kind of things. Grant too, arrived well nigh unto Christmas after finals at the University of Missouri, too late to make a trip to the old Kadee Christmas Tree Farm practical. So, in order to have a tree up for when the "kids" did arrive home, Sue and I got a late start as urban Christmas tree shopping goes, and drove the half-mile to Lowe's and looked over their picked-over lot. We found a 6' Douglas Fir as a fitting symbol to represent hope and renewed life of the Christ child in our home.
Now, a Doug Fir without argument is a superior Christmas tree to the old Virginia Pine found growing at the verge of the East Texas province, but picking a tree out of a bin, just the two of us, has me feeling a bit hollow. For me, it is more than just the tree, it is the event, the tradition. It's just not the same as driving an hour in anticipation of hunting and finding and cutting your own tree with the whole of the family.
To everything there is a season.
There was once a part of the season of Christmas that included the traditional tree hunt. I see that part of the Christmas season has now faded, the family dispersed, and the tradition but a memory. Such are seasons.
A wish for a season of fine old memories and may it be filled with fresh and pleasant new ones as well.
There was a time in the Suneson Family that when the days shorten to almost their lowest ebb, and the air chilled and the leaves upon the neighborhood trees browned and began to fall before the cold breezes dropping upon us from the north, that we could look to the coming of the Christmastide. This Season of Christmastide, heralded by quickly fading afternoon light brought with it the illumination of the 1970's era strings of blue and green Christmas lights strung from our eaves outside our home. While inside the parents would bring up the subject of planning when to take our annual trip to Kadee Farms as a family to select and cut our Christmas tree. Usually a weekend was chosen, not too soon so as to not have the cut tree dry out on us way before Santa arrived, and hopefully not too late to still have a good selection from which to choose the perfect (or best under the circumstances) specimen.
For me, the hunt was the best part of the ritual in finding an evergreen to bring home. Each family member would fan out through the rows of Virginia Pine and shout out to the others if they found a worthy candidate to consider. The clan gathered and discussed; height, color, neatness, did it have a good top and have a straight trunk (no fork). Was this the one? A vote was called, and we either unsheathed our bow saw, or we kept going to find and cut a better one.
Once all had taken a turn in pushing the saw blade through the sappy trunk, the pine was felled and taken back to Kadee Farmhouse. While our Christmas tree was shaken to remove much of the dead needles before being bound by a nylon net and mounted and tied to the roof of the SUV, we gathered around the crock pot of heated spiced apple cider and sipped. This was how it was for nearly two decades. The 60 mile return to Garland, mostly through rural Texas, usually had us stopping for a barbecue dinner at some smoke shack in one of the towns between there and here.
This year, Christmas 2014 the family gathered for Christmas, but not until Inga flew in from Portland, Oregon late in December, held in place by work obligations and adult-world kind of things. Grant too, arrived well nigh unto Christmas after finals at the University of Missouri, too late to make a trip to the old Kadee Christmas Tree Farm practical. So, in order to have a tree up for when the "kids" did arrive home, Sue and I got a late start as urban Christmas tree shopping goes, and drove the half-mile to Lowe's and looked over their picked-over lot. We found a 6' Douglas Fir as a fitting symbol to represent hope and renewed life of the Christ child in our home.
Now, a Doug Fir without argument is a superior Christmas tree to the old Virginia Pine found growing at the verge of the East Texas province, but picking a tree out of a bin, just the two of us, has me feeling a bit hollow. For me, it is more than just the tree, it is the event, the tradition. It's just not the same as driving an hour in anticipation of hunting and finding and cutting your own tree with the whole of the family.
To everything there is a season.
There was once a part of the season of Christmas that included the traditional tree hunt. I see that part of the Christmas season has now faded, the family dispersed, and the tradition but a memory. Such are seasons.
A wish for a season of fine old memories and may it be filled with fresh and pleasant new ones as well.
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| Christmas 2014 Douglas Fir Evergreen a traditional symbol of hope and renewal representing the spirit of the coming Christ Child |
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