A county’s tiniest yule tree? How one family builds arbor and holiday traditions.
Bruce Ingram | Styling by Janette Spencer
Elaine watches as Sam and Eli decorate Botetourt County’s smallest Christmas tree.
"I want a white pine for our Christmas tree this year,” Elaine announces to our grandsons, 12-year-old Sam and 10-year-old Eli, as well as to myself. “Try to go find one on our land as soon as you all mulch the Arkansas Black.”
The latter chore is the easier of the two, so we start with it. The Arkansas Black is a heritage Blue Ridge Mountains’ apple tree, known for its superior taste, keeping ability and apple pies. I’ve ordered two of the trees for Christmas this year, one for our daughter Sarah as my present to her, and the other as Elaine’s gift for me. Ideally, apple trees should be planted as soon as they arrive, and I had done so a few days earlier.
The boys and I go to the chicken manure/straw compost pile, and I instruct them how to collect the mulch and spread it several inches deep around the tree. I also explain that a tree planted in early winter will benefit from the snows and rains of winter and spring and will be better prepared to survive summer’s hot days.
Then it’s time to prowl our Botetourt County, Virginia, 38 acres for a white pine. Loppers in hand, Sam and Eli want to find an appropriate white pine by themselves, and they bring back two possibilities: a scraggly red cedar and Virginia pine — which are our usual Christmas trees.
I then realize that I should have shown the boys how to discriminate among the three species. I explain that white pines feature groups of five needles and Virginia pines two and that’s the best way to tell them apart. Red cedars have a mass of prickly needles and look altogether different. E-mama (their name for my wife) wants a white pine because they’re fuller and prettier, I add.
White pines are scarce on our land, but I know where a two-foot-tall or so one grows, so I subtly herd the boys in that direction. Eli spots the tree first, and Sam counts the needles, confirming its identity. Both grandsons immediately want to take it to show E-mama. On the way back to the house, we notice some running cedar growing along the forest floor, and the duo asks if they can gather it. I tell them that running cedar is fairly uncommon and sometimes rare in these mountains, and we’ll have to ask E-mama about that.
Elaine expresses joy at the sight of the tiny white pine, but later confides that “We probably have the shortest Christmas tree in Botetourt County.” My wife then tells the boys and me that under no circumstances are we to gather running cedar; it’s “too precious.”
As is our tradition, Sam remains behind to help Elaine trim the tree and begin sorting through the various ornaments, while Eli and I gather holly branches for table decorations. I remind him that the holly he will cut comes from an invasive species on our land, but we will spare any native holly tree.
Eli quickly corrals a sack full of holly snippets, as he is anxious to help with the Christmas tree decorating “before Sam does it all.” The two of us arrive back at the house just after Elaine and Sam have mounted the white pine on a table. The tree seems even tinier than it did in the woods, but after the boys festoon it with twinkle lights and decorations, somehow it looks much better … perhaps even grand? Maybe that’s because our grandsons played such a role in the entire affair?
I tell the boys that after they’ve eaten breakfast tomorrow morning, to walk across the hollow and I’ll pay them to help me cut wood. But their work is done for this December day.
The story above first appeared in our November / December 2025 issue. For more like it subscribe today or log in with your active BRC+ Membership. Thank you for your support!