Old Blue

Old Blue

Tucked away behind all the junk in my garage, hanging on a rusty nail is Old Blue. It’s right next to the wood pile, high enough so it won’t get run over, thrown out or lost. It rests there all year waiting to be taken down and used for its designated purpose.

Old Blue is my blue Swede saw. I have owned it for over forty years. It has traveled with me back and forth from Montana to Minnesota many a time. It is one of those tools that is taken for granted, even forgotten, until the moment of need. You see, Old Blue is my companion when I head to the mountains in search of a Christmas tree.

Here in Montana, you can buy a five-dollar permit which entitles you to cut down a Christmas tree on National Forest land. As long as you obey the rules, you got yourself a tree. Compared to the tree lots in town, cutting your own is a steal. That being said, one needs to know that mountain trees are more like Charlie Brown trees with gaps in the boughs and leaning a bit. You have to do a lot of walking usually in deep snow to find the perfect one. Then you have to drag it out to the truck.

The first time Old Blue went Christmas tree hunting, Judy and I were trekking through the woods on snow shoes with our one-year old son strapped on my back. From that time on, with only a few exceptions, Old Blue came through with a beautiful tree every year. How much longer can Old Blue and I take this hike in the mountains, I know not? This year my son Tim and son in law David did the heavily lifting. Good job guys!

As this year’s tree majestically adorns our living room and Old Blue is back on the rusty nail awaiting next year’s adventure, the words of O Tannenbaum come to mind: “O Christmas Tree, your branches green delight us! They are green when summer days are bright; they are green when winter snow is white. O Christmas Tree.”

This blog is a reminder that I need to put Old Blue in my will so that the tradition will live on after I am gone.

Thanks, Old Blue.