Ernie Hammer is a long time Kiowa County Press contributor. This story is written by Ernie’s Aunt Liz, Elizabeth Katherine (Hammer) Smith Benatti, based on her memories and family research. The story begins in Germany with Oswald Hammer and Margarethe Marie von Barsewisch, Liz’s parents. Liz passed away at the age of 104. She was living at the Kohart Home in Kit Carson at the time of her death. Part 18 can be read here.

Homestead Christmas: Tree Cutting

There were no FOR SALE stores for Christmas trees.  There were no lots filled with evergreen trees for the Christmas celebration in the homes.  There were no tree-cutting permits issued for cutting your Christmas tree.  However, there was the Public Domain where trees grew.  To the east of the Front Range the prairie and the hillocks, arroyos and flatlands with draws that twist and turn as if some giant in an angry mood guided the wind, rain and hail to cause the area to have such a peculiar terrain.  On one side of the bluff there was a dry creek bed, and the other side the bluff had a smooth grassy know to give the people a rest area for peace and quiet.  

One of these bluffs or cliffs was made up of moss rock with the mounds and rounded or flat rocks piled up; a natural way to stack things in disarray.  On this particular place the western yellow pines grew in clumps along the arroyo and up into the piled rocks.  The wood supply was limited and the pioneers respected the scarcity of the trees and only of necessity cut them down.  Soon they limited themselves to cutting just for Christmas trees.  Of course the wood was not of very good quality.  But the families were desperate for a Christmas tree so would go after a tree in December.  

Just two weeks before Christmas, the older boys in the family were sent to cut a tree to be placed in the parlor until Christmas Day.  At a distance these western yellow pines are beautiful, but closer inspection shows the rough, coarse grain of the wood.  The bark on the trunk and big branches were very serrated and rough with a sap that leaked down and became a big ball of yellow glue like substance.  The boys like to keep these balls of yellow sap which was bitter and acid, but loved to chew this as gum.

It was just two weeks before Christmas 1915, Sunday, when Rod and Oscar and Henry took off over Sherwood hill carrying a saw and hatchet to go the bluffs to get this year’s Christmas tree for the parlor.  They had had opportunity to pick a good tree during their summer rabbit hunting trips to the bluffs.  So they knew just where to go for the tree.  Carefully zigging and zagging around the rocks and trees they went up to the little tree.  There wasn’t much climbing until they got to the place and began the task.  They took turns with the saw and ax but the hard tough trunk didn’t give up easily to the saw or ax.  When they took their first rest period they examined the cuts, scratches and raw skinned places on hands and knees.  But they continued with the dull old saw and ax.

This time Oscar and Henry held on the branches that got in the way and pulled at the trunk to hold it away from the saw which was gummed up by the awful sap.  This kept the saw from getting pinched. Suddenly the pressure the boys made was too much for the wood so the trunk fell apart.  The boys tumbled from their precarious place.  Oscar tumbled into a crevasse, but Henry rolled all the way down the steep slope into the sand creek.  Rod gave a shout of triumph.  Even so, the job was not finished; a small tough fibrous splinter still held the trunk’s complete severing.  Rod took a strong swing with the hatchet and broke loose the splinter that held the last attached part of the trunk.  The boys, though tired, scratched and bruised were not too tired to enjoy the completed job.  The boys walked down the dusty road, up the Sherwood hill and silently brought the tree home.

So these few days passed uneventful except the Devores came by the day before Christmas.  They shopped and stopped by for a little bit of visiting and cocoa and cookies.

“We can do the chores early tonight,” said ma.  So every animal got a little bit more grain or hay or whatever they ate.  After a light supper of hot potato soup and crackers, everyone took their place in line.  The parlor door was thrown wide open and everyone rushed in to the stack of presents they knew were theirs.  

Next week – I Remember It Well

The Kiowa County Press invites those who live in or have ties to Colorado - especially the southeast, however all contributions are welcome - to share their story with our readers. Family history, current life, unique sites and adventures, and other aspects of living in Colorado are welcome. Contact us at editor@KiowaCountyPress.net.