Snow, snow and more snow… this seems to be the first of April’s gifts if in fact one views snow this time of year as a gift. I can’t complain at all really, for snow has been sparse this past winter, and a day tending the wood stove an easy occupation instead of my daily routine. As of now we still have power [she knocks on wood] so we are happy.
Perhaps this year more than any other, traditions hold greater sentiment, and finding that special Christmas tree to gather around is certainly one for me. While we may be apart this year, all our memories will hold us tight…Enjoy this repost from 2018 when we all did just that… xxoo
There is a cut-your-own tradition in Vermont with Christmas trees. Decades ago when my family first started to have Thanksgiving here, we’d tag our tree during that long weekend. Then, weeks later, we’d head back to the farm, with sled in tow and saw in hand, we’d try to find our special tree. There were years when we’d have to trudge through feet of snow, and on hands and knees, dig our way down to find the trunk. Frozen fingers wrapped around the saw we’d tug back and forth until it was cut through. Oh those fresh trees would fill the house with everything Christmas. Sweet pine. Cold air and snow. Even the mountain view came into our living room with that smell.
There is a cut-your-own tradition in Vermont with Christmas trees. Decades ago when my family first started to have Thanksgiving here, we’d tag our tree during that long weekend. Then, weeks later, we’d head back to the farm, with sled in tow and saw in hand, we’d try to find our special tree. There were years when we’d have to trudge through feet of snow, and on hands and knees, dig our way down to find the trunk. Frozen fingers wrapped around the saw we’d tug back and forth until it was cut through. Oh those fresh trees would fill the house with everything Christmas. Sweet pine. Cold air and snow. Even the mountain view came into our living room with that smell.
Nine Cent Girl 