When so many people’s only connection to nature is to watch it on the Discovery Channel, there is something carnivorous and satisfying about gathering your own Christmas tree–like a lioness dragging her prey back to her young. You have wrestled wo-mano y wo-mano with Mother Nature, fought through her snowy paths, and emerged carrying the laurel er fir wreath.
This savage delight in dragging your tree through snow, tossing it on a four-wheel drive pickup, and carting it home lifts one above the mere consumer who slinks furtively down to Kmart to purchase an already bound and gagged tree which they then throw on their shiny cars and pretend to have gathered the good old-fashioned way. (Shh, let us not even glance askance at those milquetoasts who assemble a pre-lit plastic tree. They not only miss their chance to swell their chests with savage pride but also miss the chance to actually inhale the spirit of Christmas with every freshly bent, richly scented needle.)
But, with the season of good will towards man, I acknowledge all our sisterhood as, in our separate homes, we join to decorate our trophy gathered whichever way we choose with shiny baubles. May your tree warm your hearts and may your children stay out of their packages until Christmas morning.