One of the best days of the year for me has always been Christmas tree hunting day. As a teenager and then a young adult, my dad and I (and sometimes my mom, brother or Ian) would "hunt" a holiday tree on a sandlot in Dunrobin that belonged to one of my father's colleagues (with permission, of course). It would be up to me to find the perfect tree while my dad dutifully trudged after me until I located it. Then he would cut it down and lug it back - often times having to hoist it over a fence - to the car. It was always a wonderful adventure. I loved this holiday ritual and I cherish the memories still.
Now as a parent myself (with exactly zero sandlot owner connections of my own), we do our annual tree "hunting" at McGowan's Christmas Tree Farm. Instead of being "the seeker", I now follow in my father's footsteps as "the trudger", shadowing my boys as they scout for the perfect tree. McGowan's trees are undoubtedly fuller and more shapely than the "wild" ones I found with my dad but the joy in the excursion remains the same.
I love tree hunting day. I can, in absolutely certainty, say that hell would have to freeze over before I would ever consider Christmas without a real tree. Long live the holiday tree hunt!
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