Each December we take the flatbed truck into the hills to thin my friend Sande’s woods. It was misty and damp this year, with the wind in the trees. This is one of my own Christmas rituals, brought straight to mind with the scent of freshly cut pine. Roberto climbs the bank with the chainsaw, and the rest of us haul the trees to the truck. They are lovely without decoration, though we do hang lights and carved goats on some, and they will scent the farm Christmas fete this weekend.