How to get a Christmas tree

In Oregon, we are well-known (or at least we think we are) for our luscious, green Christmas trees. I know for a fact that at least one year we provided the lofty fir for the White House Christmas. And, I mean, our forested mountains are jam-packed with trees, just waiting to be cut down! Right? Where's that ol' pioneering spirit?

At any rate, the harvesting of Christmas trees is something we Oregonians hold near and dear to us. Growing up, there were always kids at school who lived on Christmas tree farms, and come Thanksgiving, every spare parking lot was packed with one group or another hawking trees. Of course, a slightly more intrepid Christmas tree-hunter could wander just a few miles outside of town to one of the aforementioned Christmas tree farms. If you were feeling especially hardy, you could toss a few bucks the way of the Forest Service, get yourself a permit, and drive up into the mountains to fell the tree yourself, just like your frontiersman forefathers.

For several years while growing up, we did the latter. We'd make a day of it, take an old BLM road high in the mountains as the snowdrifts got higher and higher around us. Eventually we'd park, drink some hot cocoa, and play in the snow for awhile before selecting the perfect Christmas pine.

In recent years, we have become fond of Porter's Christmas tree farm, a few miles' drive west of town on Highway 126, heading toward the coast. So, Dad, Laura, and I got set to go find a Christmas tree, Oregon-style.

I feel the need to explain how this process works, because since moving to Ohio I have been very surprised to see that Christmas tree lots are not nearly as prolific (I recall one in all of Athens last year, with trees going for twice what you'd pay in Oregon) and not a tree farm in sight. In fact, my friends were appalled when I mentioned the very idea of chopping down a tree just to have for Christmas, whipping out their artificial trees as easy as you please. I'll admit that it does seem a tad un-environmentally-conscious, but tell that the the mountain men who first logged their way through the Cascades.

First, you make gingerbread cookies shaped like trees, and bring them with you. For hearty snacks. After working up a rustic appetite.

Then you get in the truck and drive to the Christmas tree farm. Everyone in Oregon owns a truck. Everyone in Oregon also owns a Subaru, and a bicycle. It's pretty much a requirement to live here. Now that you know the transportation laws, you can plan accordingly.

It was an absolutely beautiful day. The sun shone through white puffy clouds, the sky was crisp and blue overhead as we picked our way through row upon row of trees in various stages of growth.

You have to look at every single one to make sure it's perfect. This is a process that can take hours (gotta work up that appetite somehow!), but today our pace, like the air, was brisk.

It's hard to decide; they're all so similar.

After you select the perfect tree to grace your Yuletide mantle, the instinctive Oregonian in us all comes out, and it's time to fell the tree. Mrs. Porter (she of the Porter's Christmas Tree Farm moniker) greets us as we pull up the long drive. She's washing her car; Monday is a slow day for Christmas tree farms. We tell her what we want, and she hands us a handheld saw, which Dad has carried at the ready during our hike through piney farmland.
This is how you do it in Oregon.

The tree is removed from its berth in the ground in a matter of minutes, and we wend our way back out of the endless rows of trees. Dad carts it back up the hill to the truck, where he secures it in the bed. We trek through the muddy walk (it is Oregon in December, after all) to pay Mrs. Porter. She is all out of mistletoe, but she gives us a nice spray of juniper, with the blue berries attached, that I will bring to my grandmother later that afternoon. Dad chitchats with her about the selling season, regular customers and whatnot. We go back to the truck and have a snack (good thing we brought cookies shaped like trees!).

We take the long way home, driving through the countryside around Eugene, soaking up our Christmas tree adventure just a few minutes more.