This year's Christmas tree trek took place a day or two earlier than our usual ritual. We went scouting for a tree in Vermont's Green Mountain National Forest the same day that we returned from New Hampshire's White Mountain National Forest, where we spend Thanksgiving with my family.
Unlike my dad, who can get a tree permit and go cut his tree practically down the road on national forest land, we have to drive about 25 miles to reach our national forest.
We started off across the river from the access road where we park since Tom had seen a good tree there last year. The girls were thrilled to cross the river with Dad's help.
Unfortunately, the tree that looked good last year, did not look so good this year. We had to keep on looking. You would think that there would be a ton of possibilities for Christmas trees in the forest, but once you start looking, you see why most people get a tree that's grown on a tree farm.
Pickings were looking slim, daylight was fading, and Julia was fading, too. All this driving and we're not going to find a tree today, I thought. Then Tom and Ava motioned for Julia and I to come up a hillside. We bushwacked our way to them and there was our tree. Sweet and dainty.