When it comes to Christmas trees, I have started an inadvertent, unpleasant holiday tradition. The day after Thanksgiving, the first Christmas tree lot pops up in my Brooklyn neighborhood. As I walk home from the gym or the market, I’m sucked in by the piney aroma.
“Beautiful! Fraser fir!” one of the young pushy women running the operation tells me, fluffing the branches of a smushed, misshapen tree and quoting a three-digit price that I’d be ashamed to share with anyone outside of the city.
The next thing I know, I’m rushing to the ATM to take out a wad of cash, and my husband and I awkwardly drag a 6-foot tree half a mile back to our apartment. Oh, Christmas in New York!
By the time we get the tree home, up the stairs and into the apartment, we’ve left a thick trail of needles along our path that makes me suspicious of my pricey fir’s freshness. Days later, countless more tree sellers arrive in my neighborhood; their trees are inevitably cheaper, seemingly fresher and much closer to my apartment.
This year, intent on breaking from that tradition — and longing to enjoy the process — I decided to cut down my own tree.
First, I had to figure out a mode of tree transport. A Zipcar representative promised me a Ford SUV with a roof rack. It wasn’t in the lot two blocks from my home but rather two miles away, but whatever. I was in business!
I biked off to fetch the car and commanded my husband, Daniel, to find some rope in the frightening depths of our landlord’s garage.
He did, but no rope was needed in the end as my illustrious Zipcar SUV didn’t have a roof rack after all. Annoyed but not deterred, I hit the road and headed north, looking jealously at every car with a rack atop it.
Luckily, if there’s anyone who knows how to stuff a tree into a rental car, it’s Glenn and Don Hardwick. The bearded brothers have been growing and selling Christmas trees for some 25 years on their Putnam Valley family farm, which their parents bought in 1965. They say a “Saturday Night Live” skit was inspired by them, but neither brother can quite recall when or what it was all about.
Less than 60 miles from the city, the charming farm is a pleasant drive for New Yorkers looking for an excuse to get out of town.
That’s what Skip and Lorin Dunphy, both 32, had in mind when they came up to the farm last weekend to cut down their own tree. They even brought their dog, Cooper, along.
The Hardwicks allow people to bring Fido, as long as he’s kept on a leash. “It’s a thing for the whole family,” says Glenn.
In years past, the Dunphys, who live in the Financial District, have typically just grabbed a tree from a city stand, but this year Lorin challenged her husband to cut one down himself, something he’d never done.
“She was calling me a city slicker,” he recalls.
It took them only about five minutes to find “the one” among the Hardwicks’ acre and a half of Douglas, Fraser, Concolor and Canaan fir trees. Then Skip got sawing. It wasn’t as hard as they thought it would be, but, he admits, “about halfway through, my arms were hurting.”
I, too, found the tree of my dreams quite quickly. It was a perfectly shaped Fraser fir, the Cadillac of Christmas-tree species, with sturdier branches, a fuller frame and a slight blue tint to its needles.
It jumped out at me — trees do that when they’re in a snow-sprinkled field, rather than encased in mesh on a noisy Fulton Street sidewalk. And according to the measuring stick provided by the farm, it was just shy of 7 feet tall, which I surmised was the biggest tree I could stuff in my Zipcar.
It was all very idyllic. I was transported back to my childhood and getting trees in the California foothills — especially when I heard a family squabbling a few rows over.
The family in question was the Anastasiou clan from Westchester. They weren’t bickering but “bantering,” insisted dad John, 52, an architect. They’ve been coming to the Hardwicks’ farm for years to get their trees. His sons, Peter, 17, and George, 15, and daughter Elle, 19, cited the free cookies and hot apple cider as a draw.
In my childhood memories, I was an expert tree cutter, but perhaps that was a bit of revisionist history. My 7-year-old self might have merely stood there and called “Timber” as my dad and brother sawed away.
It turns out that cutting down a bushy, medium-size tree at its base with a handsaw essentially requires that you get down on your belly and dive into the branches. Wear gloves and clothes that you don’t care about. It’s also something of a two-person job, at least with the massive handsaw the Hardwicks provide — and my skill level. One of the brothers had to dive in on the other side of the tree and assist.
Once we got in the sawing groove, it only took a minute or two.
Timber!
We dragged the tree to the front of the yard. The Hardwicks baled up my $78 beauty and stuffed it in the car. After all that hard work, I sampled the hot cider to replenish myself.
Days later and back in Brooklyn with the tree fully decorated, I gazed upon my specimen without the buyer’s remorse of years past and admired its perfect shape and not-a-major-fire-hazard freshness.
“It’s a really great tree,” I said to my husband, with the sort of odd, delusional pride typically reserved for mothers of elementary school honor students. “We have to go back next year.”
Pick out a tree at these spots, all within 60 miles of Midtown
Hardwick Tree Farm
213 Wood St., Putnam Valley, NY; 845-528-5814
Open weekends only from 9 a.m. to dusk. Saws provided, leashed dogs allowed, complimentary cookies and hot apple cider. All trees are $13 per foot, cash only.
Emmerich Tree Farm
101 Sleepy Valley Road, Warwick, NY; 845-986-0151, emmerichtreefarm.com
Open 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Saturday and Sunday. Saws provided, dogs allowed, complementary hot cocoa, prices vary, credit cards accepted.
Busy Acres Tree Farm
548 Quassapaug Road, Woodberry, Conn.; 203-263-4786, busyacrestreefarm.com
Open noon to 3:30 p.m. weekdays, and 9 a.m. to 3:30 p.m weekends. Saws provided, dogs allowed. All choose-and-cut trees are $50, cash and check only.
Elwood Christmas Tree Farm
1500 E. Jericho Turnpike, Huntington, LI; 631-368-8626, elwoodpumpkinfarm.com
Open 10 a.m. to 7 p.m. Saturday and Sunday. Bring your own saw. Trees start at $45, credit cards accepted.
Barclay’s Christmas Tree Farm
35 Orchardside Drive, Cranbury, NJ; 609-799-1855, barclaystreefarm.com
Open 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Saturday and Sunday. Tools and assistance provided, dogs allowed, $50 for trees up to 12 feet.