Oh, what a shovel of snow we heave, when in white Christmas we believe

Ever since I was a small child in Fisherville, New York, snow at Christmas was a necessity to the celebration of the holiday. The song, of course, by Irving Berlin had us believing, but better yet were the pine trees outside my bedroom window. My father would clip the large, colorful light bulbs to their branches in November, before it got too cold (gloves didn't work well for this activity.) When the snow came, it covered the bulbs entirely, thus giving the snow a multicolored effect that looked like snow cones. Staring out those windows while singing Christmas carols was my personal holiday heaven.

Here in the Pacific Northwest, it doesn't snow that often. I find my self loving the mild winters, but at the same time thinking, "If its going to be cold, it might as well snow." I even dreamed about it one night:

Last Night I Dreamed it Snowing

Last night I dreamed it snowing
Icy flakes, gliding, slowing
Laughing children, mothers smiling,
Snowballs soaring, snow forts piling,
Cotton snow drifts flowing
In my dream still growing.

So now, in December 2008, we have been snowed on for over a week. The temperatures are low and even my skylight snow has not melted, giving the house a grayish tinge inside. It keeps drifting down, piling high and mezmerizing me. I just can't stop staring out the window and this milky miracle from God.

© 2008 Penny Lee Soutar Kjelgaard