It is hard to believe that just two short weeks ago we were basking in seventy-two degree weather and staring up at warm, sunny skies. The shock of arctic cold we experienced stepping out of PDX and into our car was unnerving, to say the least. I snagged a picture of our maple tree a day or two after we got home. The lovely filigree of ice has laced the yard ever since we got back. I really, really, really do not like being cold. And I really, really, really do not like gray skies. (And I will not complain about the rain right now because the sun is actually shining today and I don’t want to think about the Northwest alternative to sunshine.) I am trying so hard to be thankful for our weather. The east coast seems to get slammed with snow, and the southern states have been cooking themselves right up for months.
So while I drool over blogs where people can still celebrate their children’s birthdays outside (in cute little dresses, no less), and others where gardens are verdantly resplendent, I am counting my blessings to be able to experience a Christmas that feels like Christmas. Hot spiced cider or yummy cocoa lose much of their appeal in warm weather. I like that the Christmas lights start illuminating the night by 4:30 or 5:00 in the evening. I am thankful that the shortest day of the year is just around the corner, because that means longer days (and hopefully warmer ones, too) are in sight. And it does seem much easier to work on all those Christmas presents when it feels so very cold and Christmas-y outside.
I spent a good portion of my childhood in Southern California where my dad would sometimes bring a bagful of snow down from the mountains for us to play in. To me that was the best of both worlds – snow and seventy-five degrees. I never felt deprived of that magical Christmas snow. Thank you, Daddy. But this is my situation right now, so I will bundle up and snuggle up and celebrate living in a place where winter, spring, summer and fall are each given plenty of time to be experienced.
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