It has to be a White Pine.
For some reason, it never goes smoothly though. Grace is five this year. This is the first year that she hasn't had some sort of fit during our Christmas tree expedition. Clare decided to pick up the reins though. So we tromped through the
All a while Clare screamed while mist from her mouth from the frigid air, and snot ran down her face. We persevered though, and found the tree.
After the half mile hike back into civilization we wiped noses, dried tears and bought hot chocolates. And everyone was happy again, because chocolate makes everything better.