We live in Montana, surrounded by millions of acres of pine forests. So each year for a Christmas tree we pay the National Forest $5 and head into the woods to find our tree.
The biggest problem we have is that the average tree height is something like 40 feet tall. This is a smidge too big to fit in our living room.
So we have to hunt for a reasonably-sized Christmas tree.
This is the point where the trees begin to lie their pine-needly faces off. Every one of them calls from the forest, “Look at me! I’m a perfect tree!”
But they lie about how tall they are. A tree that appears to be 6’ tall from the road, is in fact 25’ tall when you are standing next to it. I believe they grow as you approach.
And they lie about their shape. From a distance, they look like a perfect Christmas tree shape. Like a Hallmark card. This is blatant, despicable deception.
As you approach, not only does the perfectly-sized tree shoot up in size like some sort of diabolical, hormone-enhanced pufferfish tree, it also twists and morphs into something that looks more like an ogre than a tree. Bald spots, twisted trunks, weird lumpy growths.
Despite all these Christmastime lies, we did eventually find one. We had to ignore the calls from the huge, deformed trees and look close to the road for the humble, little ones. But there was one, which despite looking about 3’ tall from the road, was a respectable 7’, very much tree-shaped and does look lovely in our living room.
But the millions of acres of forest haven’t gotten the message. So every time we drive anywhere, the lying trees call to us from the forest, “Look at me! I’m a perfect tree!”