Happy St. Nicholas Day, all ye thieves, sailors, and children.
Tuesday, our truncated family made its annual pilgrimage to San
Martin Christmas Tree Farm in search of the perfect Christmas tree.
We have patronized many of the local farms over the 16 Christmases
since we moved to South County, and have settled on San Martin for
several reasons.
Happy St. Nicholas Day, all ye thieves, sailors, and children. Tuesday, our truncated family made its annual pilgrimage to San Martin Christmas Tree Farm in search of the perfect Christmas tree. We have patronized many of the local farms over the 16 Christmases since we moved to South County, and have settled on San Martin for several reasons.
First, it is flat. Not that we have any objection to hiking up and down hills in search of the perfect tree, but a hill-grown tree has a bend to its trunk, which translates strangely to our living room floor.
Second, San Martin is irrigated. We have spent many a December afternoon trotting from tree to tree, thrusting our hands deep into the verdant recesses, only to draw forth handfuls of brown pine needles. “Well,” we have said, “this one isn’t too dry,” all the while excavating bushels of dead needles. This is never the case at San Martin.
Third, they will drill a hole in the stump for you, which our super-dooper Christmas tree stand requires.
Fourth, they provide their customers free hot apple cider and coffee.
Fifth, they have a train, although now, alas, our kids are too old and jaded to be entranced by train rides.
This is the first Christmas in 13 years that I have actually had to help carry the tree. Once Nick turned seven, he manfully took over carrying one end while his dad took the other. After Oliver began to assist, my husband and I enjoyed several years of blissful sloth, during which the kids did the cutting and hauling. Our involvement was limited to sipping cider and critiquing the height, breadth, and verdancy, as well as the all-important trunk straightness, of the proposed tree.
Now Nick and Oliver are away at college, and Anne, although a competent sawyer, is not burly enough to tote a tree single-handed. My husband’s physical therapist has forbidden him to indulge in any potentially damaging activities, such as toting trees or flying to Israel, for the time being, so I got to help carry.
The tree was much lighter than I had remembered from 13 years ago.
Once home, Anne and I tried to set the tree into its tree-stand, and suffered a dreadful fright. It listed badly, almost 10 degrees from vertical. We took it out, and my husband set it up properly. His physical therapist would probably kill me, but the tree looks great.
I love the smell and freshness and sense of adventure that cutting one’s own Christmas tree entails. With so many farms in South County, it is hard to imagine that someday we might settle for a lot tree or an – shudder – artificial tree.
Stranger things have happened. My parents always took us to Christmas tree farms to cut our own, at least if there was a farm within 100 miles.
After we left home, my mom bravely kept up the tradition for years. Then one snowy Christmas, she hiked through the forest, cut down her tree, dragged it down the mountain, man-handled it into her truck, drove it home, set it up, and decorated it.
The next year she bought an artificial tree. If she could convert, so could I, some day. But not yet. Certainly not while I still have Anne at home to help me choose, cut, carry, and decorate.
“That’s only 500 words. What else should I write about?” I asked Anne and her friend Danielle Zappa.
“The World War II memorial,” answered Danielle instantaneously. “They still need $8,000.”
“The Dispatch says they need $9,000,” I corrected her.
She smiled, with pardonable pride. “That was before they called my dad.”
So: per Danielle’s request: The monument commemorating the World War II veterans and fallen will cost $84,000 to build. The group of veterans raising money for the project says they have succeeded in raising all but $8,000 of that sum.
There are more than 40,000 people in Gilroy. Eight thousand dollars divided by 40,000 people is only $1 for each family of five. It sounds very reasonable. Send donations to Gilroy Veterans Flagpole Fund, PO Box 1588, Gilroy CA 95021-1588.
