The weather could not have been more perfect for a tree hunt this afternoon. A week of cloudless winter skies is a rare treat in Portland, and even with the frigid air temperature it couldn’t get any better for a family excursion. The previous two years were windy (think: gale force on an open hilltop) and bitterly cold. Last year, I was 8 months pregnant, fervently hoping our 80lb Doberman puppy didn’t drag me face first through tree stumps, mud, and gravel in his haste to return to the warm car. This year, the hound stayed home and I carried a wool and polarfleece bundle of baby cuteness in a sling.
There is nothing like tromping through hills of nearly identical, conical trees with little kids as they search for just the right one. Mud splatters and sap stains are badges of triumph. The sharp fragrance of freshly cut fir trees
would chase away the scroogiest funk, but our holiday spirits were already buoyant.
The first hand saw we my husband used had a dull blade, but the second one easily sliced through the trunk. Over the hills and through the suburbs we drove home, partially decorated the tree and drank cocoa, and ended our day with a festive start to the holiday season.
Hopefully the dog has outgrown the urge to eat the ornaments and chew the big stick tree. Hopefully the baby will not start walking or climbing until after New Year’s Day. Regardless, it is a warm start to the cold season.
