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really ... spruce up the place ..."

I laughed at her hidden pun, but she just looked at me, con-
fused, almost as if she thought Iwas laughing at her. Itried covering it
up with a cough, like actors flawlessly do in movies. She got up from the
window, saying she was going to get dressed and then we could leave.
It was the quickest Ihad seen her move in weeks, like she had purpose.
Reason. Will. Ipoured the coffee into two cardboard travel cups and
then grabbed my goose down coat. There was no way Iwas going to
delay this event of the season any further than it already had been post-
poned.

§

Finding a Christmas tree farm in upstate New York isn't a
hard task; it's deciding on which one that's the problem. Ihad flicked
through the Yellow Pages while Aggie was preoccupied upstairs and
made the executive decision on the one farthest away, reasoning the
longer Icould get her out of the house, the better. We sped down the
highway, strangely avoiding the traffic Iwas sure we were going to hit
on a Sunday. Aggie didn't say anything the entire ride, just looked out
the window like a baby on his first trip into the world. The scenic view
wasn't all that scenic. The trees that normally were covered in thick
wash oflarge leaves were completely naked, the wood of the trunk pale
and peeling, the branches shivering against each other in the bite of the
high-altitude. The sky still loomed, the threat of rain hanging heavier
than it had before we left. It would be just our luck that this brief period
of optimism would get rained out.

We reached Jingle Bell Farm by the late afternoon, the parking
lot completely devoid of the family vans and sedans Iimagine had been
there earlier. Sundays were prime time for tree picking, fitting in the
schedule right after church and just before a nice home-cooked meal. I
watched Aggie tighten up the drawstring of the hood on her thick cor-
duroy jacket as we walked to the main entrance. She dressed in count-
less layers of jersey, knit, and fleece, but never failed to freeze wherever
we ended up. There were many times Iwish Icould have just held her,
shared my warmth, taking the load from her mind for a few minutes.

Jim Tracey was the sole proprietor of the land and our only
company while on it. Having seen us coming from the office window,
he welcomed us to the farm with open arms and a rolling belly laugh.

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