Each season we have a tradition. Fall we see the swifts, spring we go to the tulip fields, summer is for the club. I won’t tell you what the club is because it’s a secret. And winter, we go to Christmas Mountain (yes, that’s the official name) where we cut down a Christmas tree. It’s up in the hills west of Portland and it wouldn’t be a trip if there wasn’t a little car sickness to accompany it. Last year, we arrived, and I promptly walked into the trees and puked on my boots. SO. MUCH. FUN.
This year no one puked. But the 7 yo couldn’t put down his book so he got a little queasy but was quickly remedied with some apple cider. Christmas mountain has cider for all and a huge bonfire to stand around and keep warm.
The first thing we do is take a tractor ride deep into the hills. There are 100 acres of trees to choose from. 100 acres! Did you know that Oregon is the largest grower of Christmas trees in the nation? TRUE FACTS.
Then we head into the hills to find our perfect tree. It’s a lot of walking and looking. And discussing the merits of particular trees. We go for blue-ish, 7′ nobles.
When we find it, the dudes put on their work gloves, and start sawing.
Then we walk back and wait for it to be bundled.
Once home, we stand back and admire it. Here’s our tree without ornaments. Turns out it’s gigantic. It didn’t look so big among its 100 acres of cousins.
We decorate the tree and talk about each ornament and tell stories we remember about them. Each year Tyler gets us ornaments. Here are this year’s. I love them.
And that is our winter tradition. Complete. Looking forward to spring! And our winter trip to the coast too.
Life in the Abbey 
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