We wandered around, hack saw in hand, trying to decide whether we'd get a Fraser Fir or a Balsam Fir (clearly we would not be choosing the exceedingly poofy, Weeble Wobble-shaped Scotch Pine) and finally the enticing aroma of the balsam fir made our decision. "Please cut only trees with tags" the sign said. Easy enough. We walked down a row of balsams scoping out the shape, fullness and height of each one. Meanwhile, the three conversant children in the family were starting to say such Christmas Vacationesque comments as "Can we just pick a tree and go? I'm freezing!" Finally, we walked back to the tree that seemed to fit all our strident criteria, looked it over once more and then Joel prepared to cut it down. It struck me as feeling a bit destructive, just cutting down a tree like that. But I got over it. So, timber, the tree falls and we hoist it onto the tarp we'd been given to drag it on back to the barn. I say, "How much is it?" Joel says, "I don't know. Where's the tag?" Awkward silence as we search for the tag. Oops. No tag. We just chopped down a tagless tree. Were there penalties for this? And Joel works with one of the daughters of the owners; how embarrassing! "What's going to happen?" Bethany asked wide-eyed as Joel and I discussed our oversight. "Oh probably nothing," we assured her, but I did feel awfully bad chopping down the wrong tree. We turned to the left and spied the original tagged tree that had first captured our attention. Oops. Wrong row. Well, we thought, as we dragged our illegal tree back to the barn, why wasn't THIS tree tagged? It's a perfectly good tree. Most of the tagless ones are shrimps they're letting grow a bit more. But this one was a nice, big tree. What gives? So, the moment of reckoning arrives. "Did you find a nice one?" a friendly tree farm worker asked. "Um. Well, yeah. But we cut down one without a tag. Sorry about that." "Oh, don't worry. No problem!" Whew. No harm, no foul. We never found out why this particular tree was on the tagless list. I'm wondering if I'll wake up in the morning and find some critter's nest in it or something. At least the cats will have fun.
After a little apple cider and some shaking, netting and strapping (of the tree), we headed back home, a successful first outing to the tree farm. On the way home, Micah said, "Jee-boo, jee-boo, HEY!" which of course means, "Jingle bells, jingle bells, HEY!" In keeping with his desire to sing Christmas tunes, I said, "Micah, can you say 'O Tannenbaum'?" (Miss Leanne, who keeps the littles when the bigger kids go to co-op on Thursdays, teaches them German and this week it was the song O Tannenbaum.) He smiles and starts saying, "O Tammy Baum, O Tammy Baum." Not sure who she is; perhaps some obscure German Christmas heroine who traversed the Black Forest saving trees from the axe. In any case, it was pretty cute and made for a lovely ending to our tree-cutting adventure.
