Axe in one hand, saw in the other, this dad's out on a tree hunt

Note: In light of the fact cutting trees from the roadside is illegal, the author wishes to make clear that this is a fictional piece written about an imaginary family in a town far from here.

Does anybody still go and find their own Christmas trees by the side of the road? Come to think of it, did they ever?

Christmas for me is all about kids - the glee on their faces in the morning, the eager anticipation for weeks ahead, and the playing with cousins at various family dos.

With families dispersed across the state and beyond, we never really had a great deal of official family traditions around Christmas time. But my favourite ritual has to be the Christmas tree hunt.

The Southern Highlands is usually the scene of the hunt, with the tourist roads between Robertson and Bowral usually generous in their bounty. And the annual hunt wouldn't be complete without spotting a beauty that will be perfect at this time next year, marking the spot, then swiftly forgetting all about it.

There may be prizes for the spotter of the best tree (or at least there used to be when the kids paid more attention). I like pretending I'm a tree-diviner, saying "ooh I think this spot feels like a good one" or somesuch (spotting large pine trees means there might be small ones there too but I'll take the credit as a phoney guru).

There's a bit of chin-scratching while standing before our quarry, sizing it up: is it too sparse, too tall, was that last one down the road better, or have we found our tree?

There's a quick dash over busy roads, saw in one hand and tomahawk in the other, and a speedy slice and grab before marching it back to the car, feeling as proud as Santa Claus himself after a big night of worldwide deliveries.

Then it's off to find another for some older relatives. Here we go again!

I've been told by someone from the city that this is old-fashioned or unusual, as very few people actually go and cut down their own trees from the side of the road. But I grew up in a tiny country village where there was no shortage of conifers and the idea that you buy a pine tree from the fruit market or servo is still a bit strange to me.

Sure, being a lover of trees I've often considered whether a plastic tree, or even better a potted re-used pine, would be more responsible. But the old pinus radiata is hardly a native, and is regarded as an invasive weed in some areas.

It would be nice to support the friendly Christmas tree farmers, but I can't bring myself to drop $100 on a chopped down pine, no matter how perfectly plump its boughs may be, or how tastefully it's been trimmed into a flawless taper.

Not when there's some good clean fun to be had on a search, with gorgeous scenery to drive through, a shared mission, the thrill of the catch, a weed removed, and memories for next year and beyond.