Tree Huntin

The only thing better than having a real Christmas Tree is being able to cut it down. Trace and I set off up the mountain on a 4 wheeler, thinking that we'd be back in an hour. By the time an hour had passed we had been hiking on foot for a while; our 4 wheeler was useless in the slushy snow we encountered up at Carl's camp. Trace was a trooper. He kept up with a combination of riding on a sled I was pulling, holding my hand, and crawling through the deep snow. By the time we reached a viable option, Trace was wet and cold, and I was pretty spent. We had fun resting our legs while sawing at the trunk with a dull saw. The trek back to the 4 wheeler was something like out a pioneer journal. I tied Trace to my back with my sweatshirt and pulled the tree down the hill over the snow by its trunk. That night was a memorable one. The smell of pine filled our house and after years of improvising (1 ft tall fake, paper cut out, and even not having one) we finally got a real Christmas Tree.