Note: I'm interrupting my Erie House Saga for this special, fun report.
It snowed a lot last night so we spent two hours plowing and shoveling the driveway. I went in to check my email to find that one of my best friends died last night of cancer (see News). Nathan suggested since I didn’t go to work that we all drive to the tree farm and get our Christmas tree. Leigh and I agreed it was a good idea. The farm is on the high side of a mountain behind the one we live on so we dressed extra warm because it’s always 10-15 degrees colder up there. “It’s going to be cold up there,” I said. It became a mantra. Yup. It’s going to be cold up there.” “It’ll be cold.” We arrived, parked, and trudged up into the tree fields. The wind was blowing from the west. At times it was so hard that entire sheets of snow lifted up from the fields and rushed at us like a billowing army. When it hit we stood frozen in a sea of white. Leigh couldn’t decide on a tree right at the entrance of Rudolph Lane or one down in the field. We walked back and forth through the eight inches of drifting snow to check each one out for height, holes, straightness and other characteristics on her list of the Successful Christmas Tree.
And a more detailed inspection. By the time we cut down the winner, Nathan’s legs were frozen from lying in the snow. Leigh couldn’t feel her fingers and I was holding my camera in my pocket to keep it from freezing.
It's down! The wind was blowing so hard that the tracks we made going up the hill were gone by the time we slid the 80 pound tree a quarter mile back down the hill. As we trudged back I felt like some exile in Dr. Zhivago.
And it was really cold up there.
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Nathan & Leigh on the world's coldest tree farm. 
Leigh's thorough tree check. 
