Every year for the past half dozen we’ve driven west into the rolling hills of Loudoun County to cut down our Christmas tree. It started as a lark and has become a tradition, one we uphold even when cries of “it’s too far” or “I have homework” almost rule it out.

Yesterday we took two dear friends, so there were seven of us in the car, and it was an occasion. It didn’t take long to find the Douglas fir of our dreams, hack away at the trunk and topple the tree. We drug it down the mountainside, paid for it and lashed it to the top of the car.

This morning I learned that the Snickers Gap Christmas Tree Farm is closed for the season. We just made it.