It is a Sunday evening within easy reach of Christmas and it has been a day of winter weather, sleet, freezing rain, and mostly snow. Most things are now covered with a crusty-surfaced layer of snow. We seem to be the late hall-deckers these days as many neighbors started just after Thanksgiving and some before. We waited until mid-December and colder weather.
Yesterday, I draped pine roping around the brick arches of our front porch and picture window, which are very prominent architectural features of the house, a fine old Victorian of unique style. This afternoon we decorated the tree in the round tower area of the parlor and placed poinsettias in the picture window, the one with the stained glass arch at the top. We tested and replaced bulbs in the electric candles for the windows and located sufficient receptacles and extension cords to plug them all in.
Now it is nighttime and I am sitting in a very comfortable chair in the parlor gazing out at a perfectly scenic winter view. The old house across the street has its white lights shining and the two large perfectly cone-shaped evergreens in front, looking like giant versions of those on train platforms, are frosted with snowy icing. Hmmm, it really is ice-ing.
There is a reduced level of traffic due to the slick road conditions and even that makes little noise. I am always impressed by the way snow makes everything nearly silent – quiet enough to hear the snowflakes rustle against each other as they gently fall and settle together on the ground. It makes the harsher aspects of life softer, quieter, and less scary somehow, at least for a short time.
Times like this always make me sentimental and happy and sad and stir many emotions at once causing me to want to sing "In the Bleak Mid-Winter" or quote Frost or Shakespeare or Ferlinghetti or Dylan… I wish that times like this could happen more often and last longer but then realize, of course, if that were so, it could not be nearly as special.