Theoretically, I told my family of three, yes–by all means–absolutely and for sure we could hop into the minivan and go someplace to cut down a tree to be our Christmas tree.

But where are we going? Shall we pull onto some dark corner, scramble down a brambly hill, whack an unsuspecting tree and squeeze it into the van? No no no no no.

Let us begin with the Internet. Find a place nearby that is professional, where we shall not be overmatched by the elements, where we will be comforted by infrastructure and guided through the whole stinkin’ process of helping to lay bare brown a verdant green hillside or whatever.

Charlie Brown in that Christmas tree lot was ahead of his time. We still don’t have trees as spectacular as those giant aluminum trees, but today’s artificial Christmas tree is a fine piece of work. The changing LED lights are so enchanting that one can come to peace with the fact that he didn’t design and install these lights himself, but he did have sense enough to appreciate a well-lit tree and go with that, rather than look at his own lights, wondering why (knowing all too well why) he somehow cannot bring to fruition the dazzling vision in his head.

If one can find the storage space for it, one needn’t toss a tinsel wrapped spine of broken brown limbs onto the street for the garbage. Few artificial trees ever look as sad as those discarded Christmas trees awaiting collection. As someone who can’t throw away a pair of socks without a heartfelt farewell, it’s not in me to rush into that melancholia.

But the Mrs. wants a real tree, and her reasons are persuasive. A 2-year-old boy can have worse things at Christmas than a genuine tree acquired in a process of which he was a part, so I can explain how it works.

The Christmas tree farm is divided into four sections: Noble, Grand, Nordmann, Douglas Fir.

We did much the same, unscientific thing we did when we went to the shelter to get a dog– we saw one we liked and that sealed it.

The farm provides saws to cut down the trees, which, young trees as they are, are not dense enough to present a physical challenge. A machine allows two young men to stuff the tree into a sort of net, in which it is wrapped in plastic and carried to the owner’s vehicle. String is provided to tie the wrapped tree to the top of the van.

It was after tying the tree to the car that we set out to see the rest of the tree farm. I told my son that Santa might be hiding in the trees, so he went around yelling, “Santa! Where are you?”

Our Nordmann fir survived the trip home. We unwrapped it ad put it in the brand-new tree stand we bought at the local hardware store on our way up to the farm. The needles pushing out of its trunk all up the trunk is an odd feature, but it’s a handsome tree. Before we left, we measured the space so we could be sure the tree we brought home would fit into the available space, but we still had to trim off the top of it.

Our son now has for his first Christmas tree one that is almost three times his size, going all the way up to the roof.

He can enjoy that, and the ethical dilemmas can wait for later.