The rows are neatly lined - this is a farm, after all. Its principle crop is Christmas trees. However, its true purpose seems to be the sale of home and family, of comfort, of peace and safety ... of silence.
A sharp, shrill metallic buzz slices the early morning tranquility. It sounds like a chainsaw at first, but soon reveals itself as a four-wheeled, all-terrain vehicle.
Wally Kaenzig sits at the helm, gleefully carving a path through the fresh-fallen snow. He laughs - zipping around with the wild abandon of youth. Wally is 94 years old. If anyone has earned the right to laugh, it's Wally. He spent 26 days in hell.
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