We arrived at the Home Depot parking lot a few minutes before sunset. The place was packed. You’d have thought everyone in San Diego was choosing that particular Sunday evening to buy their Christmas tree.
We came upon a parking place near the tree lot and snagged it. Then we waited for our daughter and her roommate to arrive. The mission before us was to help them get a tree to their apartment. We have the boring Parentmobible that seats seven or a six foot tree, depending.
We shut off the motor but didn’t get out. Even in San Diego a December evening can be chilly. Outside in the distance we could hear saws slicing off wayward branches and awakening comatose tree trunks.
When our daughter and roommate arrived, they called us from the entrance to the lot so that we could meet them. That’s when we opened the car door and were enveloped in a wall of scent. It was heady. Intoxicating. Pungent. Delightful.
What the heck were we thinking sitting in the car watching drivers jockeying for parking places when we could’ve waited outside getting drunk on the scent of fir trees? I closed my eyes to the swell of consumer chaos and the growls of the saws and it was like being in the deep woods at the end of a long day. Too lovely.
It didn’t take long to find a good-looking six-footer, which the girls named Douglas (get it?). We took him to the cashier where he was given a nice shave and then was wrapped in a cozy net. We slid him into the Parentmobile and closed him in. Twilight fell all around us as we headed out of the lot, swooning to the aroma of Douglas’s amazing aftershave.
I slipped in a Kenny G Christmas CD, turned to hubby who was sitting on the passenger side, and told him to pretty please pass the egg nog.
Gotta love pine.