Before truckloads of perfect firs showed up in parking lots, Christmas trees in Appalachia came straight from the mountains themselves — usually a scrappy, sweet-smelling cedar growing stubborn as a mule on the hillside, the very heart of an Appalachian family Christmas tradition . A week or so before Christmas, Daddy would holler, “Come on, young’uns — let’s go find us a tree!” And just like that, the whole troop bundled up and headed toward the ridge, boots crunching frost-
