There is a Christmas tree lot in our neighborhood that magically appears after Thanksgiving that we've been going to for the past few years. The older gentleman who runs it lives in a trailer on the lot to keep watch over the trees. He's gruff but kind.
Hen looks for smaller trees. He loves that hat on his head.
Today, Henry found our perfect tree in record time. The pandemic makes shopping a speedy enterprise. We very much arrived at the lot with a get-in, get-out action plan.
By nightfall, our tree was decorated with a few gifts for family and friends underneath.
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