After a canceled flight and a detour to Seattle, Charles’ sister and fam finally arrived to spend Xmas with us in the snow.
Dad took them all out to the woods to hunt and kill their very own tree. After walking for several minutes, they found the perfect one – tall, with full branches, perfectly spaced. Which Dad walked right by in favour of a scrawny, scraggly neighbor. You see, he never lets us cut down the good ones. Something to do with letting the good ones grow into valuable timber.
Here it is dressed up in lights and a few ornaments. You can’t tell from this, but the top is bent on the ceiling, which somehow feels hopeful to me -like it wants to reach further. Miss Congeniality in the beauty pagent.