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.
Then there were the "City Seekers"—families who drove sixty miles out of the concrete heat, eyes wide as they stepped into the mud. They’d ask about the a tree that wouldn't drop needles by the 20th. Elias would hand them a saw and a piece of advice: "A tree is like a guest. If you don't give it a drink the moment it walks through the door, it won't stay long." where to buy christmas trees
On the final Saturday before the holiday, a young man pulled up in a car that cost more than Elias’s house. He looked lost. But this year felt different
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." The gravel driveway didn't crunch as often