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“I’d love to learn everything. That way, when I’m talking about the farm online or in marketing materials, I’m giving accurate information.”
Knox nodded. “We can do that.”
“Now, what are you guys doing, exactly?” I asked them.
Emmett held up red, green, and white tags. “Each tree gets a number so we can track it. Then we categorize them by type, height, and quality.”
Knox pointed to a tree that was fat, but the top only came to my shoulders.
“It looks like the top was chopped off.”
“Something stunted its growth, but someone might want it. We categorize it as a green. It will be cheaper. But then again, it might be the only tree standing at the end.”
I thought that was a little sad, even though it was a tree and not a person. Even trees had to be perfect, the branches filled out with no holes.
“We’ll measure them, tag them, and trim a few of the branches to ensure they have the shape people want,” Heath added.
“You trim the branches?”
“People want the perfect tree, and they want to believe they grew that way and not like this,” he said, pointing out the smaller tree again.
“Wow. I had no idea.”
Heath showed me how they used a special tape measure to get the height quickly, then they logged the information, gave it a number, printed the tag from a little handheld machine they had, and secured it near the top. “Buyers will rip off this portion and bring it to the red barn or the gate to pay for it.”
“And price is based on shape, size, and type.”
“That’s right,” Heath said with a smile and a nod.
“Could you stand next to the tree so I could get a picture?” I’d seen another farm have a worker stand by the tree for a height comparison. Heath complied, and I snapped a few pictures of him standing in front of it. “How tall is this tree?”
“It’s a seven-footer.”
I made a note of it so I could use it when I posted it another day.
“Let’s get to it. It looks like you have a lot of trees to tag.” I followed next to them, watching them with interest. They were quick and efficient, obviously used to the process. I took pictures as we went, trying to be discreet.
It must have worked, because no one grumbled about me taking them. The ground sloped toward a small pond by the main house. The area was gorgeous. I could see why the brothers wanted to keep it for themselves and not commercialize it.
“Have you thought about allowing photographers here to hold sessions?”
“Absolutely not,” Emmett said, and I wasn’t surprised. “We tried one time, and it was incredibly annoying. They get in the way of the tree selling.”
“I can see that. You should focus on one thing during the season, but maybe open it up for photographers a few Saturdays in October.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Heath said.
“You’re full of ideas,” Emmett said.
“Not all good?” I teased.
He gave me a look. “Give me some time.”
I shrugged. “This is your farm. I’m just trying to help.”
“And we appreciate that,” Knox said.
I had to remember I wasn’t part of the family, not in the way that Ireland and Sarah were. Ireland was married, and Sarah was engaged. I was just a girl living here. Despite what Heath said today, there were no guarantees in life. He could change his mind or decide I wasn’t what he wanted.
