They all came.

Within minutes the yard was full of black habits. I hadn't realized so many nuns were staying at Brush Creek, though Sister Anthony told me there were always more than it seemed. In the middle was Sister Anthony, arm in arm with Sister Frances. They nodded at me and began to walk slowly toward the clearing.

I went out front and told my men I'd meet them by the tree, then followed the nuns, staying just a little behind them. I felt like an intruder, but I couldn't help myself. I was drawn to their procession like a bird to a flock.

It was something I'll never forget, watching them walk through the fields, the hems of their habits turning white from the light dusting of snow on the ground.

The men had driven the trailer around and were waiting for us when we arrived. They were being a little bit rowdy, but when they saw the nuns approaching they quieted down real fast. You could see on their faces that they were moved by these nuns walking out there in the snow to say good-bye to their tree--especially since a lot of them were pretty old.

The drivers stood aside respectfully while the nuns said a prayer and sprinkled the tree with water. There were no speeches or anything like that. They just stood still for a few minutes and then gently began to sing with voices as clear and sweet as cold spring water.

As the last note died away, Sister Frances looked over at me and nodded.

"We're going to leave now," she said.

I saw her put her arm around Sister Anthony and heard her say, "Let's go inside."

Sister Anthony shook her head. "You go. I have to stay."

For someone who's never seen it, the way we cut down the trees is both amazing and awful at the same time. After all the weeks of preparation, the actual sawing only takes about two minutes, but, as I realized that day, that's a terribly long time to hear something you love getting cut open. The weird thing is that you can't really tell right away that anything has happened. The tree is suspended from a tall crane beforehand, so even after it's been cut it looks as if it's still standing.

I should have warned Sister Anthony. I saw the flash of hope on her face after the saw stopped and Tree didn't fall and I saw that hope disappear when we moved the tree from its stump and lowered it onto the trailer.