Laingsburg — For 20 years now, our family’s Christmas season has been celebrated the same way—by turning down the familiar drive of Peacock Road Tree Farm in Laingsburg, Michigan.
What started as a simple outing when our son was 5 years old and our daughter was a newborn has grown into a family tradition stitched deeply into our Christmas season and woven through their childhoods.
One of the highlights of the farm when the children were young was the Peacock Express. No matter how cold the air, no matter how deep the snow, the moment that little train chugged into view, the kids would light up with anticipation of their annual Santa visit.
We’d climb aboard, bundled in hats and scarves, the wind humming against our faces as the train rattled through the woods. It always felt like crossing a threshold—leaving the ordinary world behind and entering a place where joy was expected.
Santa’s reindeer made an appearance along the way, and then, tucked in the trees, the cabin would emerge—Santa standing on the porch with the most cheerful “Ho Ho Ho” as if he had waited the whole year just for your visit.
He waved at the families. Parents were just as excited as the kids to experience the innocence and their children’s anticipation. It was a break from the harder parts of life.
With his patient smile, Santa entered the cabin and sat in his chair awaiting the line of children who hoped he would come through with their desired present.
Though there is a timeline to visit and enjoy hot cocoa near the fire, it does not feel like it. The elves and train conductor know Santa never rushes the dreams and wishes of childhood.
But children grow. One day they tower over you, trading tiny mittens for car keys. Yet Peacock Road still calls us back.
These days, our visits look a bit different—but no less cherished. We enter the farm—witnessing other families loading their soon-to-be decorated tree that they find after a trek through the pines and firs.
In the farm’s cozy shop, we pick out ornaments for each of the kids—pieces they’ll one day hang on trees in homes of their own. We wander through the farm animal area, holding hot cocoa from the Sugar Shack. It warms us from the inside out.
When the cold settles into our coats, we drift toward crackling fire. Or we duck into the barn, where Polar Express plays on an endless loop while the lights dance across the rafters, syncing to the music, wrapping you in nostalgia.
We watch as we eat donuts, nachos, or the mouth-watering BBQ—a smell that wafts around the picturesque winter locale.
Just when we thought our train rides had ended, our niece was born. Suddenly we had a reason to ride the Peacock Express again with my brother’s family, to reclaim a bit of childhood wonder for ourselves.
Although she is no longer a young child, we hope someday our own grandchildren will give us a reason to return to Peacock Express.
Until then, we’ll enjoy the Christmas tradition it has given our family.
Because that’s what Peacock Road Tree Farm does. It doesn’t just sell Christmas trees or hot cocoa. It gives families a place to create their traditions, to grow memories the way its trees grow—slowly, season after season, until one day you look back and realize you’ve built something lasting.
If you’ve never been, maybe this is the year you begin your own story there. Traditions don’t have to be grand to matter. They just have to be shared. And there’s no better place to start one than a farm where the joy of Christmas is not only possible—but promised.
Jamie Hope is a contributing writer for Michigan Enjoyer.
