Twas that time of year again! It was time for Elizabeth and I to head to the mountains of NC to find the perfect Christmas tree! Last Saturday, E and I ventured out...this time picking up our amazing friend Laue on the way. I would write about our day, but Laue did such a wonderful job (and she's a profesh writer), I'm just going to paste her write-up below.
"In the Middle of the Forest, there was a Tree"
This afternoon, I found myself doing something completely spontaneous and unprovoked–nothing like I had planned for my Saturday. I woke up at 9:13 because my phone was buzzing, but I decided to ignore it and stay nice and cozy under the covers. A few hours later, I was glad I decided to get out of bed a minute later and call my friend Jones back.
A few hours after 9:15 am, I was traipsing through fairly disgusting and gloopy (there’s really no other appropriate term for it) mud, in search of the perfect Christmas tree. A fairly daunting task for many; easy peasy for us. However, what I thought was going to happen, and what actuallyhappened, were two drastically different things. A few reasons why:
- I was truly under the impression that I was going to follow Jones and Aker out into the wilderness (of Boone, NC) with a saw and some gumption, and we were going to chop down the perfect tree. I thought we were going to climb halfway up a mountain, into desolate and snowdrifty land, completely bereft of humans and civilization. I thought this because last year, Jones and Aker described their adventure to Boone to get a tree, and that’s the way it sounded to me. Literally. So when they picked me up, I looked into the back of Aker’s SUV to see if they had brought the hand saw. And when I didn’t see said saw, I was vair, vairconfused.
- Instead, we went to a tree farm (after ascending a nausea-inducing mountain top) that was in the middle of nowhere. I mean nowhere. I loved it. There was an old, boarded-up farmhouse that looked like it belonged in a horror film (complete with creepy old lady in the kitchen hovering over a cookstove), and a backyard that was complete slush.
- Never, in my wildest dreams, did I wake up this morning and think that I would be using a Porter Potty at 2:30 pm. Mercy. Never a fun experience. Especially for Aker, who accidentally let her beautiful camera bag ever-so-gently rest in the urinally section (for men, obviously) for a good while before she noticed. Ew.
- Tree-hunting was fun. Not the obligatory let’s-go-on-a-family-outing-even-though-no-one-wants-to-be-around-me-because-I’m-an-angsty-pubescent kind of tree hunt. I haven’t had a real Christmas tree since I was little (Pam says she allergic, but really I think she just hates the dadgum dead pine needles that drop), and I’d forgotten how much Christmas Spirit lingers around an evergreen coniferous tree. It was intoxicating, from freezing your tail off to making an awful excuse for a snowball that does the trick, despite you doubting his capabilities. Sometimes, there is truly nothing better than laughing your butt off in the middle of a field of trees, stuck between a Douglas Fir and a hay bale.
I found myself, about eleven hours after 9:15 am, in Aker’s car, on our way back to civilization and the Greensboro area. We had been singing Christmas carols (with the help of Hanson, Mariah, and Josh Groban) for hours, and things took a turn for the weird. Before I knew it, we were singing the song “Little Drummer Boy” with the music off so we could do all the percussion parts; Aker was laughing so hard she was crying (only out of the left eye, though [?!?!]) and borderline hyperventilating–while driving, Jones was panicking because she was talking in a voice about an octave higher than normal and said she couldn’t make it stop, and I couldn’t decide if our singing was the most horrendous or most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.
It was at that moment, thirty miles from home–muddy, tired, and absolutely stuffed from eating at Dan’l Boone Inn–that I realized just how much I love those girls. Not because I’m almost positive they’ll be reading this (they pressured me to blog about it, even though I was already planning on it), but because they hold such special places in my heart. Aker and Jones represent two of my foundation’s most important cornerstones. They have mentored, bullied, loved, pummeled, pranked, encouraged, and yelled at me for the past four years, and I am inexplicably changed because of it. Simply put, they bring joy to my life in the most unexplainable, inappropriate ways. There are few other people in the world who accept me exactly as I am, whether I’m in a rare form and bouncing off the walls or I’m so tired and frustrated with life that they’ll do my laundry for me so I can have some clean underwear to put in my drawer (really happened–thanks, Jones) . I love them something fierce. And I am honored to have their friendship. I’m honored that they picked me.
In the middle of a forest, there was a tree. We got to it by tractor-pulled hay wagon, and it was a beautiful sight. A man with huge boots cut it down for us, and then he took our picture for us with mud-caked hands. I think we forgot to ask his name, but I said “Merry Christmas” when we got back onto the tractor-pulled hay wagon. We shared a meal of chicken and biscuits and cobbler and tea, and we thanked the Lord for His blessings and love.
In the middle of a forest, there was a tree. A man in overalls and big boots cut it down with a chainsaw, and the tree’s no longer there. It took the last ride of its life down dark, windy roads, and now it’s cozy and warm inside a little painted house. Tomorrow, it’ll sigh with gladness when it gets trimmed with tinsel and ornaments and maybe some lights that blink every once in a while. It’ll decide that this is the perfect last place the stop, along the way to Douglas Fir heaven. And then Aker will turn on Carolina basketball and start hollering at the television, and the Douglas Fir won’t be so sure. It’ll come around, though. Aker’s harmless.
It was a good day.
Actually, I will now chime in and give Laue props for the quote of the day:
Elizabeth: "Laue, aren't you glad you came with us?"
Me: "Isn't it fun? Elizabeth and I decided last year we would do this every year even when we're married with kids...but, we decided we would have to all fit in one car for the experience. We would probably have to rent a van."
Laue: "and husbands."
Well done Laue, well done.
Here are some pictures...
Driving up the windy roads to Laurel Knob, NC!
Laue was taking a long time to walk down the trail. She was literally being tailgated by a jeep.
Oh hello tree farm.
Happy birthday, E!
Trees and a barn. Love it.
...and the photo shoot begins...
...and continues...
I love scarves.
Our tree! (not the dead one in the front- so unfortunate, poor little guy)
There was just something so amazing about the bales of hay.
This one's for you Rice Cakes! N ts. N ts.
Could be the best picture ever.
Hay ride back up the mountain!
Refer to Laue's write-up for what this is.
Trimming the tree back at the house with a kitchen knife of course. Year two, and another one bites the dust...
Hey- look what I found in the box of unwanted ornaments from my parents...the Phoenix (Elon's mascot- don't hate) ornament I gave them when I was in college. I thought "special gift." Mary thought "too ugly for my tree."
She's a beaut. Miss her already. There's nothing like sitting in the same room with a lit-up tree during the holidays!
Happy Holidays from the big apple,
emmie grey
