Meg's boyfriend Andrew is staying with us for Christmas so we went out to a tree farm off Sorghum Mill with him and his beautiful camera to pick out our own real, live, smells-really-good tree. He deserves all photo credit.
I learned that the process of getting a real tree wandering around a farm at dusk while sipping complimentary hot cider is far more preferable to assembling a fake one or picking one up at Walmart.
I also learned that the "Christmas Trees" grown in Oklahoma are stringy and odorless - Firs don't grow here because of the hot summers. Needless to say we are phonies and the tree we picked out had been shipped in from Oregon.
Free, Cat Power.
Nothing Ever Hurt Like You, James Morrison.
Comfort You, Van Morrison.
Trying to slow down time,
Repeat the sounding joy.
