As has been amply documented, we ate well on Thanksgiving. On Friday, we rested. On Saturday, we were once again ready for adventure. Fortunately, as residents of Chestertown, we were on hand for the finest small town holiday parade to be found this side of the Chesapeake Bay (and probably on the other side, too).

Frosty was there, of course. Though it was hard to tell whether he or Kato was cooler.

Also on hand was our plush red crab. I wonder if he has a name? Someone please tell me if he/she/it has a name.

Santa was there, too, but he was awfully preoccupied.

Alden tried several times to get his attention, but he seemed set on hugging other kids and granting other kids’ holiday wishes.

Santa might have some work to do to get back into her good graces.

After the parade, we headed to the workshop of Frank Rhodes, furniture maker to witness the largest and most wonderful model train setup I have ever seen (and will likely ever see again).

On the way, we passed an enormous sculpture of an eagle.

And a lego competition.

With prizes.

But the main event was upstairs. Picture, if you will, a huge, dimly lit room, with dozens of trains making endless circuits around hundreds of feet of track. On various levels, each with interior lighting and chugga chugga sound effects. The overall experience was amazing.

But the truly incredible thing was all the little buildings.

The tiny shop with tiny trains moving around tiny tracks inside.

The Chrysler Building.

The tiny carnival with moving rides.

The tiny gas station shaped like a dinosaur.

The tiny burger joint.

The tiny, moving man pasting up a new billboard.

Was it fun? It was fun. It was very fun.

On the way out, we paused to admire one of the more ambitious lego competition entries.

In case you can’t read the small print, it says, “This scene depicts the day in the life of a Lego figure.”

Quite allegorical, I imagine.

Next, we headed outside. To Simmons Christmas Tree Farm, where we got our tree last year and will continue to get our tree every year for as long as they are willing to sell one to us.

It’s a great place, a family-owned-and-operated place. My favorite part: to get out to the field where the cut-your-own trees grow, you get to take a hay ride.

And I do love a hay ride. My mom was in town. She, too, was in need of a tree. And so we all headed out.

Once we arrived, our tree called out to me. It was perfectly shaped, perfectly sized. It was our tree.

And so I summoned my capable helper.

And he set to work.

Alas, his ambition outstripped his skill set, and so I volunteered to assist.

Apparently, two Swanson men are not sufficient to chop down a tree. August added his two cents.

And a small stick he mistook for a saw.

A small stick he firmly believes proved decisive in felling the tree.

He was disgusted when I tried to claim victory for my own.

Dreaming of further conquest, August contemplated an opponent more in line with his size and capabilities.

But we convinced him to let it live to see another Christmas.

Eventually, our tree got a hayride of its own.

Back at the barn, our tree got a ride in the Shakee, the mighty remover of dry and loose pine needles.

Then it got shoved in the chute.

Neatly bagged.

And carefully manicured with the chain saw.

There was a forgettable moment when the children mistook the tree for a horse, but let us not dwell upon it.

Eventually, the tree made its way into the back of our van.

And some hot chocolate made its way down the throats of the tree conquerors.

My mom, seeing me eyeing the magnificent metal Christmas tree stands with envy, decided to save on wrapping paper and gave me my birthday present approximately three weeks early.

Simmons is a great place. Great people. And excellent trees.

When we got home, I was reminded how thoroughly inadequate my old Christmas tree stand was.

And how perfectly spectacular was the new one.

It slid on effortlessly.

It held my large and unruly tree with strength, confidence, and compassion. All the traits one looks for in a Christmas tree stand.

The moment came. We hoisted the tree.

And did it stand?

Oh yes, it did. In spite of the obvious curve of the trunk, the product of growing on a hillside, the tree stood solid and true in its brand new stand.

And so we unwrapped it.

Each branch unfurling as we did.

Almost immediately, there were presents underneath. A full three and a half weeks before Christmas!

I hung the lights immediately, because nothing makes me happier than an otherwise dark room lit by the cheerful glow of hundreds of small white Christmas tree lights. But we’re not going to put up our ornaments until next weekend. Because we want to stretch out this holiday cheer as long as we possibly can. Also, because trimming our tree the Behr/Swanson way involves hundreds of butter cookies that need to be made. But Alden, dead set on getting a head start, enlisted August to help her improvise. They hung wooden blocks and scarves and the handle to our Swiffers. They hung hair clips and underwear and one of Kato’s little ties.

It was earnest and beautiful and a fitting end to a very good day.