The 12 Posts of Christmas, Day 3: Tree Hunting

Inside: Is it possible to find the perfect pine worthy of being a Christmas tree? Some thoughts on conifers and people while in pursuit of perfect pines.

In pursuit of perfect pines.
One morning at the tree farm in early December.

This post originally ran five years ago. It means even more because our favorite farm tree was sold, so the tradition of finding our tree at Brushy Fork Pines is now just a wonderful memory. 

Tree Hunting

Every year it’s the same–the search for the perfect pine. And in my mind’s eye, only the best will do.

Something without a bare spot. No missing branches. A vibrant green color. No dead spots or brown needles. Our assignment is pretty clear. We’re not some first-timers.

We head for the white pines. Something in the six-foot range. We approach each pine expectantly, Mike standing beside to measure height. One’s too tall. Another’s too wide. Branches are missing in this one. Too many brown spots in that one.

We continue the search as the land slopes below the Christmas tree farm shop. It soon becomes abundantly clear, as it does every December, that the perfect pine is elusive. We need to make adjustments. Decide what we can live with and make the best of nature’s imperfections. We settle on a tree with a bare spot toward the top, minimal brown needles. Height is just about right as Mike stands beside it. The color is good. This pine, we decide, will become our Christmas tree this year. I smile at our selection. Mike begins to saw. . .

The 12 Posts of Christmas, Day 4: In Pursuit of Perfect Pines
Me with this year’s Christmas tree.

 

Trees are a lot like people. We’re looking for that perfect person, whether for a spouse or a best friend or the salesclerk at a department store. Often we come with huge expectations. You must meet my needs. You must act appropriately. You must never disappoint me. But like the pines at the Christmas tree farm, we’ve got branches missing, some bare or even dead spots. Just as there are no perfect trees, there are no perfect people.

There is only one such spotless individual. And He’s the reason we’re trudging up and down hills on this beautiful day, sun on our faces, searching for the perfect not-so-perfect pine.

Perfect pines.
Mike hauling up a Scotch pine for Mom.