Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree

I just read my last post and realized I need to explain something...every year, the day after Thanksgiving, we drove to the mountains and cut down our own tree. This was a tradition we all looked forward too. Our house had a vaulted ceiling that was 25 feet high so choosing a Christmas tree was always a challenge. When we found one we (mostly) all agreed on, we would stand back and try to determine if it would fit in the house. Most of the time, my mom would say, "It is too tall. It won't fit." But we would all use our own methods of calculating the height of a tree from the ground and proceed with the sawing. One time, we didn't realize the problem it would pose, but our tree was downhill from the car. That was fun. I think it might have been the same year my brother's car broke down and we all ended up squished in the Bronco. I rode home, laying across laps in the back seat for the three hour drive. It was the big joke that if a plane flew overhead, all they would see is a Christmas tree driving down the freeway. When we got home, we would usually have to cut a foot or two or more off the bottom to make it fit. But when it was decorated with the blue lights and balls, the snowflakes and the icicles, it was quite the sight. It was so beautiful that people driving by would actually stop and ask how we got that tree in our house. Our answer was usually, "It grows in here." Some really believed us.