But this year felt different. A big-box hardware store had opened five miles down the road, selling "Designer Firs" wrapped in plastic mesh for half the price. The Hollow was quiet. The gravel driveway didn't crunch as often.
Elias didn't say a word. He handed the man a rusted saw. "Walk until you find the tree that makes you stop thinking about the price. That’s where you buy your tree." where to buy christmas trees
The first customer was always Mrs. Gable. She didn’t want the tallest tree; she wanted the one with the "best soul." Elias would walk her past the perfectly manicured Balsams to a corner where a slightly crooked Douglas Fir stood. But this year felt different
The heavy scent of pine didn’t come from a candle this year. It came from the back of Elias’s rusted 1998 pickup, a smell so sharp it felt like a memory he could almost touch. The gravel driveway didn't crunch as often