Sandpoint, ID

Mind you, it isn’t that we object to supporting the Christmas tree industry, but our last two farm-grown trees cost us seventy bucks apiece. And there should be more to choosing a tree than coming home from work one afternoon, bundling everyone into the car, hustling down the road to a farm, letting someone else cut your tree (what’s that all about?), stuffing the hapless evergreen into the back of the vehicle, and hurrying home again.
No, we decided that if we could beat the snow into the woods this year, we’d rekindle a family tradition.

We made a couple of phone calls to get updated on the regulations: Trees from state lands were free; those from federal holdings cost $5 each (up to three per family). Since US Forest Service acreage is closer to home, we opted to buy a permit from the Sandpoint Ranger Station. We also purchased a new map ($10), because our old one had been serving as a coffee-cup coaster and shim for a short-legged table. At the same time we grabbed a pamphlet (free) with specific instructions for procuring Christmas trees in Idaho’s Panhandle National Forests.

Opening the map on our kitchen table, we tossed a teabag toward it (don’t ask), thereby selecting a green-shaded area near Trout Creek, between Sandpoint and Hope. Everybody clambered into the car—not forgetting some extra jackets, gloves, red hats (it’s still hunting season), cookies, Pepsi, and the all-important pruning saw. We checked the mileage; I wanted to know exactly what this tree was going to cost.

Down the road! Twenty minutes later, we cruised slowly along a wooded byway, dithering a bit on two-day-old snow. All around us, mountaintops brooded beneath a dusting of white. We drove past several possible Yuletide candidates, reminding each other that wild-grown trees don’t get pruned and shaped very often. We figured we could always come back for one of these specimens, but each of us was secretly hoping to be the first to spy the “perfect” tree.

When our tires started breaking loose, we parked and continued on foot. I scooped up the camera and almost immediately got distracted. The ladies found our tree simultaneously, while I was absorbed with a cluster of mushrooms pushing through the snow on the forest floor. When I heard them say, “We found it,” in unison, I knew the search was over. The youngest member of our party commandeered the saw…

…not long afterward, we slid our prize into the car (not forgetting to affix the permit), clinked aluminum (toasting to our success), and headed for home. Oh. Including the cost of gas, permit, and map, our tree cost $18. And we have a pocketful of new memories to attach to the season.