The Sacrificial Tree. Chopped.

The Killing Field - A Tree Farm in West Michigan - It was a Fir

It was just about the hour of the beginning of the winter solstice, on the Friday before Christmas; it was the day that had been pre-determined to be the day that the eldest son-in-law--married to the eldest of the Prodigal Daughters, who have abandoned us and our Michigan winters to enjoy the pleasures of sunny central Florida--was to have an authentic West Michigan experience which we will call: The Killing of the Christmas Tree

On the hunt--searching for a worthy victim

Previously the son-in-law had been more of a tree-hugger than a tree-killer. Perhaps next year he will chose another Michigan adventure and become the deer-slayer.

My Mitsubishi Montero Sport provides transport

Shortly after hoisting the dying tree to the top of the car the wind picked up and blew it to the ground. We asked the tree-killer to finish the job and he dragged the tree back to the farm for the torture and tying.

The tree-killer with his spoils

As you can see, we were the only fools to choose such a day as this for our dastardly deed.

The dying fir was painfully dragged across the bumpy field

The husband supervised the shaking

All tied up

I had forgotten the hot cocoa, so we stopped at a local pub on the way home to celebrate
our successful hunt, the winter solstice, and our survival of the Mayan doomsday, leaving the tree bound and dying in the cold and snow on the roof of my Mitsubishi.

I warmed up with a spicy Mayan brew - I had asked the husband to wait until I took a photo before he sampled, but I see his big greasy fingerprints on my glass.