We braved the ice and snow and headed up to the mountains to find our Christmas tree. Despite the appearance, it was in the mid-30s and sunny and not at all that cold. The snow was dry and fluffy, so when I slipped on an icy patch and tumbled into a drift, the flakes just brushed right off. And it was a fairly soft, if cold, landing.
After a short walk, we had found the perfect tree — a six-foot silver tip. Some chili and mulled wine next to a fireplace and we were warmed inside and out.
Now the fun part starts. Somewhere in the attic are the boxes of ornaments and miles of tangled strings of lights.