Real Christmas trees are the done thing here, which makes sense since we're in one of the states that grows them for everyone else. On the first of January, however, they're hurled out onto the street to await pickup by the Christmas-tree Man:
We briefly extracted Steve from his exciting world trip for a hiatus in our little slice of Palmy, and forced him to make beer in the garage:
And now, smugly, we have three carboys full of beer that has pretty good prospects. Left to right, it's a Brown Ale (Steve's one), Dry Stout (like Guinness), and Brown Porter (yesterday's effort). No, not all of our finished homebrew is in shot.
