The Sunday Paper:: O Tannenbaum

{via}

I never thought I was one for tradition. However, as I continue to write about the holidays it has occurred to me that over the years the boy and I have developed quite a few of our own. And it makes me think that perhaps the best traditions are those that are not necessarily intentional, but rather the result of a shared interest in repeating a beloved activity. 

Take the Christmas tree. Each year, the weekend following Thanksgiving we grab some twine and scissor and head out to find our tree... {I would love to romanticize about visiting a tree farm or heading out to the forest, hiking out in the snow in search of our perfect tree, but frankly we live in Florida and that's not an option} hitting the tree lots at the local schools and churches looking for that one tree that will grace our home from now through Christmas - a Frazier fur, about 6-7 feet high, with all it's needles in tact.

As I write, I can smell the familiar pine scent from the tree we brought home yesterday, its branches illuminated, waiting to be adorned with ornaments. A mixture of heirloom glass bulbs and various baubles we collected over the years. Yet another beloved activity that has become tradition in our home.