We had our first snowfall at the new house last night. I’d spent the afternoon, which was quite crisp, cutting firewood in a T-shirt and jeans. All I could hear was the wind whistling through the trees behind the house, an occasional whinny from the horses, or the odd vehicle passing by. The sun stayed out, the birds played hide and seek around the house and the horses, and I played some Christmas CD’s while I was outside. Granted they weren’t always audible above the sound of the saw I was using on the wood, but when Norm got home from work the wood was halfway done, dinner was almost ready, and I was definitely in a Christmas-y mood. And when the snow started falling I, along with six other lunatics scattered across the globe, actually felt my spirit lift.
I tend to drive most people nuts around this time of year. You see, I’m a Christmas baby. While I wasn’t born ON Christmas day, (I was actually born on the solstice), I’m definitely a winter sprite at heart, and the first snowfall always brings a smile to my face and a spring in my step—which, in itself, can be dangerous, since I have a tendency to slip and fall on my ass whenever there’s the slightest amount of ice on the ground. Go figure. But I am a native Vermonter, and I don’t mind the cold, and I love the snow.
I don’t know if it actually has to do with the timing of my birth or a prolonged exposure to cherished family and memories around the season when growing up, but I’ve always treasured the Christmas season, and not just for the presents. I mean, c’mon, who doesn’t love presents? (Well, maybe someone who’s friends with Jokey Smurf might not like presents, but I mean other than that, really?)
We’ll probably get our tree this week. This is our first Christmas in the new house, and our apartments have never been large enough to have more than a tiny plastic tree in all of the years we’ve been together. We’ll decorate it together, like we always have with the little ones, with carols playing in the background. With luck we’ll have enough snow to make a snowman or even a snow-family. With two Dads, of course. That should get the neighbors talking.
Wait until they see me frolic the Eskimo way. 😉