Accidental Christmas Tree

/ J. F. Riordan

I have mentioned my friend from sixth grade before. We met at age eleven, and our friendship was cemented soon after. Our math teacher commented on our report cards that we giggled too much in class. We have a deep mutual commitment which has lasted these many years, and although we are very different personalities, we seem to share a general tendency toward lunacy.

We don’t live in the same town, but close enough, and I was on my way to her house yesterday to see her Christmas decorations, have some lunch, and, because she really is a good friend, drop off some papers pertaining to a small dilemma (See: accounting; loathe.) I was a tiny bit late, so I was tooling along the country roads at a nice clip. 1

However, as I turned down her familiar rural road, I noticed that the rickety farm market and petting zoo that has been there for decades was selling Christmas trees. I slowed, and saw there were some good-sized trees. For the next mile I debated whether I should buy the tree myself rather than going on a family outing. It was too far to come on a school night, and the place wouldn’t be open after dark anyway. And honestly, after a basketball game all an eighth-grader can think about is eating.

So after a pleasant few hours of lunch, conversation, and admiration of decorations (my friend has, among other things, a magnificent hand-carved Italian creche with bespoke lighting), we turned to the subject of trees. “Want to come?”

She did.

It was a balmy December day, almost 50 degrees, which in Wisconsin means mud. We pulled into the dirt drive of the place. There were no other customers, but an eclectic collection of barnyard animals in pens all around: turkeys, various sorts of chickens, a donkey, a sheep, several types of goats, emus, and at least one vociferous pig.

A guy with a shovel looked up from where he was standing.

“Are you open? We’ve come to look at Christmas trees.”

“Nah,” the guy answered cheerfully. “I’d rather shovel pig s*&t.”

He set down his shovel and came to speak with us. “I have to tell ya: Did you see that trailer driving off?”

We confessed that we had not.

“That was the boss. He’s gone down to the other field with a load of manure. His wife has cancer, and it’s her treatment day, no one else is here, and I’m not allowed to touch the electronic stuff. So, you’d have to pay cash. That’s all I’m allowed to do.”

I did not have cash.

“But,” he continued, “you can go up to the quickie mart on the corner where they have an ATM.”

I agreed that we could do this, but suggested we look first so we knew how much we would need. So we tromped down the drive through the mud, I in my new black suede boots, to look at the trees.

Balsams have been hard to come by, lately. I like frasiers; they’re very pretty trees, but there’s nothing like the scent of a balsam. There was a blight a few years back, and it takes years to replenish. But here was a lot full of them.

We picked our way through various forms of manure. “Watch out for the poop!” became the mantra.

We found a tree. Just eight feet. It had a sparse side that could be turned toward the window, but it was the right combination of fullness and height. Just as we were calculating the purchase price with tax in preparation for our trip to the cash machine, the farmer returned with an empty trailer, and we were spared a trip to the quickie mart. Total cost: $66.

The checkout was a strange little place, with a greenhouse/gift shop that had a slightly creepy Miss Havisham vibe, but we soon escaped outside, where the tree was netted, and ready to go.

“I can’t put the tree on the car,” the farmhand informed us. “Liability.”

An emu lurked preternaturally in the distant trees.

My friend and I looked at each other. “We only have to go a mile,” she said. “Tom is home, and he’ll have something.”

“I got twine,” said our man, helpfully.

This is probably the moment to point out that we’d had champagne with lunch.

The tree was very light and I settled it on the roof of the car and opened the windows. Our friend handed us twine and without touching anything, explained how to weave the twine among the branches for extra security. Having never done this before, I was happy to have expert advice. We bumbled along for fifteen minutes or so, because I really didn’t want to have to ask Tom for another in a lifetime of favors.

It wasn’t until we were finished and ready to go that the farmer reappeared, and started to laugh. “I think you’ve forgotten something.”

We looked at each other, then at the car, and light dawned. We’d tied the car doors shut.

The farmer chortled. “I’ll get the scissors.”

“No,” Julie said. “We can just crawl in from the back.”

Now, I have a small car, as anyone who has seen photos of my German Shepherds’ sweetly bent ears can attest. But I am reasonably agile, and the whole thing seemed simple enough. I climbed in the back, and as I contemplated my move, I realized that the space was more limited than I had anticipated. Fully aware of my audience, and possibly somewhat compromised in my judgment, I crawled into the front, only to find myself stuck with my feet in the air, my head on the front seat.

I started to laugh, and could not stop. I lay helplessly, unable to move and barely able to breathe. Tears ran backwards down my face.

My friend was in the back seat doing the same. I could hear male snorts outside.

“Move the seat back,” called the farmer. But that meant getting myself in a position where I could reach the button on the outside of the seat. Finally able to move, I wriggled my way to find the button, and then found it impossible to get my legs under the steering wheel. My knee landed on the horn. There was another lengthy bout of deranged laughter.

When we drove away, securely entwined, we all wished one another a Merry Christmas.

Julie, unwilling to copy my methods, sat in the back. “Well,” she said, “we just killed thousands of cancer cells.”

A mile down the road, Tom waited on the driveway with scissors to cut us out, and a ball of twine to re-tie the tree.

Our plans for a post-basketball family event would have to be something else.

We went out for sushi instead.

  1. Sidebar: I tend to amble when the dogs are in the car because I don’t want to toss them around, but when I’m alone, I like a good corner. This has softened my views on round-abouts of which Wisconsin has far too many for no particular reason. But they can be fun. ↩︎

39 thoughts on “Accidental Christmas Tree”

  3. So glad you got YOUR TREE!!! And friends like yours, who are up for whatever shenanigans you cook up…..those folks are the best gift!! The ones you don’t have to explain things to, behave yourself and just BE yourself. The laugh til you cry friends are THE BEST!!!

    So……did the suede boots survive the tree extravaganza??

    Like

  5. The Universe is wondrous! It knew you needed a fresh tree and delivered, with a side of hearty laughter and an adventure you won’t soon forget.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. lol. I’m sure you weren’t the only customer who tied the doors closed. Perhaps they had indulged during their lunch. Perhaps they were just waiting to see how long it took to realize what you did.

    Like

  8. Oh. My. I was laughing right along with you… out loud! We’ve all been in that position at one time or another and that’s what makes the whole escapade wonderful! Champagne and all! Merry Christmas!

    Like

  9. I had to stop reading halfway through because I was crying so hard from laughing that I couldn’t see the words. That’s the best laugh I have had in a while! Perfection.

    Like

  12. 🙈🤣 I so wish we were neighbors.

    I had a similar laughing fit at a bad time.

    After a fun day on the water, I had one foot on the dock and one on the fishing boat when I looked down at all the fish guts and blood under me, after a full day of fishermen cutting up the new catches. “OMG, what if I fell in? How DISGUSTING.” Hahaha. The boat crept further and further away and my split was getting wider and wider. I just laughed hilariously…until I fell in.

    Like

  14. Unexpected things come when you least expect them. I glad you found your tree. That was quite a story of getting onto the car.

    Like

  15. I laughed so hard, as I can imagine me doing the same thing. I’ve crawled through my car before which was a feat when I was younger. I’m 75 and would still crawl through if needed.

    Like

  16. I look forward to your stories every day and check my phone first thing in the morning before getting out of bed. I love starting my day with a good laugh!

    Like

  17. This was THE BEST laughter read of my day! Thank you for your entertaining description. Now I know how I look having done a similar crawl from back to front. 🤣🤣🤣

    Like

  21. Thank you for this. It came at a time when I truly needed a good laugh for a couple minutes. Bless you and your wonderful friend.

    Like

  22. I love a good cheeky, girlfriend adventure story. You, my friend, never disappoint!
    And I, too, and interested in how the suede boots faired?

    Like

  25. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard. You are hilarious. I’m so thrilled you got your Christmas tree and now you’ll have a wonderful story for the ages. One that will be passed on when you grandson says to his kids, “Hey, did I ever tell you the story about the time my grandma got entwined in the car seat when bringing our Christmas tree home?”🤣🤣 I’m sure your tree will be beautiful. Can’t wait to see a picture. I wonder of Auggie and Eli will be able to tell there was a pig was involved.🤔😅

    Like

  26. I was enjoying this sweet  tree-buying story with an old friend … then guffaws! Omg … wonderful! And yes, you did kill all your cancer cells with th

    Like

  29. Oh my goodness, thank you for the laugh! Something my sister and I would have done. I, however, would have peed my pants from the laughter. The gentlemen probably thought they were watching an old Lucy and Ethel episode. Good on you though, you got your tree! Merry Christmas 🌲

    Like

  32. This was so much fun. I laughed out loud twice, in the morning and just now re-reading. Brilliant humor! You must read this to Eli and Auggie.

    Like

  33. What a wonderful and memorable Christmas tree adventure that you will be reminiscing about for years to come. I do think the city of Neenah actually holds the record for the number of roundabouts. Not just single ones but back to back triples.

    Like

  35. Thank you for this…I was crying I was laughing so hard. Friends like that are hard to come by. I just lost a friend of 50 years but she would have been in on that sort of an adventure for sure.

    Like

  36. I love a great adventure! So glad you found your tree. I’m sure it will be so spectacular with your creative skills! Please post a picture with the dogs and the tree! Thanks, a a very merry Christmas to you and yours!

    Like

  37. I had to stop reading this half way through because I could not see the words through the tears running down my face. Thanks so much for the wonderful story!

    Liked by 1 person

  38. It’s good to know that I’m not the only person who has tied their doors shut when bringing home a tree. I also climbed in from the back so I understand the challenge. Glad everything worked out alright.

    Liked by 1 person

Comments are closed.