Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

to Lundy, where we parted, Frances going to Word’s on Vine St, Louise to church, and Joe and I to Aunt Maggie’s where we had had the tree delivered.
       Uncle Dave elected himself master of ceremonies here (as Joe complained afterward that Uncle Dave wouldn’t let us do anything,) and set to work to take off the two boards in the center of the box. It took him about ten-minutes of tinkering and fussing and sweating to accomplish this, but finally it was ready, altho I am sure, and Joe was too, that either of us could have dine it in less time.
      We then went out to the barn and here I saw my first glimpse of the tree; it certainly was a beauty; it was a perfectly shaped tree and thick with branches, which, on setting it up, we found, could be spread out in to a very round compact piece of Christmas cheer. And it smelled so good too, but we had to set to work. A lot of the lower branches had to chopped off, and I hated to see them go but off they must come. It did not take long to get it all fixed, but seemed long, for the cold in the air bit our hands and faces until the y tingled. When we had finished we hurried home. Frances met us at the door.
“Wherever have you been?” she cried.