'Twas sort of a Christmas tradition...

...when I was growing up.  About this time in December, we'd make the trip from Maryland down to the family place in Virginia.  Daddy and I would go out in search of the perfect Christmas tree - always a cedar.  He'd chop it down and haul it back to the house. Later, mom would even venture into the woods (a feat for her with her crippled legs from polio) and we'd hunt up some running pine, running cedar, and clip some holly branches with bright red berries.  Then we'd haul it all back to Maryland to decorate the house.  We often came home too with some delicious country butter and some sausage and scrapple from Aunt Emma, and maybe even some country ham.  Mom liked to put the holly in an old milk crock that used to belong to Grandma Bess, and she'd arrange some of the running cedar in a heavy glass pitcher (it also was Grandma Bess's - and we still have it).  Sadly, around these parts I've never noticed either running cedar or running pine, but I'm delighted we can still get a cedar tree for decorating.  Amazing how the smell of the cedar brings back memories of long gone days like nothing else can.