All spruced up

Yesterday, I suited up and ventured outside for the first time in a couple days to find a Christmas tree. It's been gorgeous and clear here, but hella windy and frigid. I put on many, many layers, laced up my snowshoes and tromped down the trail to find a tree. It was a gorgeous afternoon, and just as the moon was coming up over the pass, I found a little spruce that was just perfect. It was 3 feet tall, and a little straggly, but symmetrical. I cut it down, and turned homeward. Then I tripped on an alder, and snapped the tree in half. Sigh. But I found another, slightly larger, tree nearby, and hauled it back to the cabin.

I was putting the last ornament when it hit me; I've never put up my own Christmas tree. It should have hit me before then, as I was struggling with how to prop it up without an actual tree stand. (Let's not talk about all the glass and ceramic vessels I broke before finally settling on a pie plate... And kitchen twine. Certainly not dignified, but it works.) So this spruce, small, slightly lopsided and light-less, is my very first Christmas tree. I think I'm in love.