December is the only time of year when someone can hastily erect a series of wooden posts at a highway intersection, stretch strings of barren incandescent bulbs between the posts, toss bushels of felled trees under the lights, and not get chased away by law enforcement.
I can remember back when I was a child how newly illuminated street corners advertised the newest harvest of Christmas trees without any signage needing to be posted.
Beneath those lights families clad in scarves and coats milled in the aisles between evergreen propped against runs of two-by-fours searching for the tree that would be just right for them. Trees were pulled upright, spun, critiqued, and discarded - only to be revisited after dozens of options were considered.
Few trees in nature are absolutely perfect, yet each family seemed driven to find the natural exception - until father's announced the search had gone long enough and a compromise was reached.
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