Pre-Thanksgiving tradition: Clifford and I drive an hour away to a family farm in northern Georgia to get our Christmas tree every year. We do this because as a Hoosier at heart, I believe Christmas trees are meant to be sought and chopped. None of these pre-cuts from a commercial lot. One needs to work to find his perfect match. You have to sift through the masses, scrutinize your selection from all sides, take a moment to compare it to its surrounding mates, nitpick its flaws and then when you’ve finally found the right one, tear it down. A lot like dating, actually. I love it. Clifford hates it, but that’s par for the course.

 In a nutshell – we came.

Tree Farm

 We Saw.

The One

 And then Rockefeller Center landed in our living room.

Rockefeller Center

But that wasn’t the best part! This year’s annual expedition to the backwoods of our fine state brought an even bigger smile to my face. What began as an inside joke had finally taken root the way it was always meant to do. Continue reading