Darkness was crawling across the land as Dish and I braved the gale force winds and trekked across the massive hills of the back 40, trudging through the frozen leaves and ankle deep mud. Armed with only a hatchet and a Princeton Tec Fuel (but nary a cell phone or manner to call civilization for aid if things were to go badly) we set off due South towards the cedars. Dish, being an excellent tracker, served as my guide allowing me to conserve precious battery power for emergency use only. The collapsing of the U.S. economy and the sky rocketing prices of commercial Christmas trees forced Dish and I to do what our fathers have taught us from their fathers: Go cheap or go home. Er... I mean, how to fend for ourselves.
At first the cedars proved tricky and allusive staying safely hidden amongst the hardwoods and the moonless sky, but we persevered with moxie and dogged determination. With Dish's keen sense of smell and sight we soon found ourselves on the trail of a wily young cedar buck. Luckily all the Kriegsspiel training Dish and I have been doing lately stacked the cards in our favor, the poor wily cedar hadn't a chance. Time was quickly ticking away for Mr. Cedar Tree.
Our game cornered with no escape, I swung my hatchet like Maxwell and his silver hammer, (Bang Bang) down upon his trunk. The colossal tree teetered for a moment, taking the last gasps of breath before crashing down into the frozen tundra with an Earth-shaking, yet solemn, thud. Trophy in hand, Dish and I hauled the massive brute back across the harsh wilderness and over the oppressive mud laden, frozen leaf covered hills. Mission accomplished.
H. unwrapping the x-mas ornaments so we could decorate the tree.My Evil Mother-In-Law (EMIL), in her deep sardonic way, was so excited to get us decorations she wrapped them.
The tree in all it's glory. Pooh stocking replacing the Swiftwicks cuz my feet got cold (not to be confused with coaled, which is what's in the Pooh stocking). And beside, no Canadian skulls = boring.
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