We've been wanting to create some holiday traditions of our own, and we got the idea to start getting our tree from a Christmas tree farm where you cut your own down. We drove about 30 minutes to get there, stopped by to see the 850 lb pig, checked out some turkeys (that John Dickson calls ducks) and peacocks, walked through the farm, sampled strawberry cider (twice for John Dickson), scuppernong cider, moonshine jelly and sweet potato jelly, indulged in an apple dripping with hot caramel, nuts and whipped cream, took a goofy picture, mailed an invisible letter to Santa Claus himself, and left. Left to buy a tree. From the produce stand. What can we say, we're just a frasier fur kind of family, and I'm pretty sure those cant grow here.
Instead, we started the tradition of letting our kids (just one this year) make our wrapping paper. With a big roll of butcher paper and some paint markers (which are very different from paint pens, by the way) and a few stickers, John Dickson has been making masterpieces. And he loves it!
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