Keeping Up with K&D: Rite of Passage

Life is full of rites of passage: Age attaining milestones that mark the passage of time and transition from baby to toddler to child and so on. And with every milestone the individual attains some level of adulthood until they are fully considered ADULT. Truly though, despite every notable milestone from my drivers license to my first glass of wine, graduating college to starting a business, and finally getting married, it took a Christmas Tree to make me feel like a true adult.

This past weekend Devin and I ventured out on our first very important married expedition. We were in search of the perfect tree to decorate our home and mark our first Christmas together as husband and wife. As we headed out of the driveway we passed no less than 3 signs advertising 3 different tree farms. gah! How will we know which farm had the perfect tree for us?! After starring at the 3 different directions we opted for the road on the right. It made sense. And the glowing aura surrounding the trees and twittering birds made it seem like the right choice.

As we crested the hill on the downward slope to Purinton Tree Farm, the excitement rose. The farm field with neat rows of evergreens was a beautiful display below us. Upon parking and walking to the red shed laden with decorated wreaths we were greeted by a bearded gentleman wearing a flannel shirt with candy canes in the front pocket. He handed us a saw, told us the price and pointed to the field.

And as we walked towards the trees flurries of snow began to fall around us. The moment was perfect.

Now came the decision. We knew the tree could not be taller than me or else it would not fit well in our short living room. We also knew it could not be too round or we would not have a living room J Tree after tree was considered and rejected for one reason or another: too short, too tall, crooked, lazy, too blue, not blue enough and then…

…we found it. The glowing light was a dead give away again, but really, it was perfect. And it came partially decorated with a few little pinecones clinging to the branches. J It was our tree. Our first Christmas tree.



Devin set to work crawling around the grass and dirt to cut the tree down as I held the top steady.

And as we carried the tree by to the shed I could not help feeling very proud. The glowing aura had transferred to my face as I watched my husband’s back walking in front of me: My partner. My best friend. My family. ‘We have a tree,’ I thought and could not help feeling very truly adult.