The house is still quiet, only the gentle crackling of the fire in the fireplace, revived from the embers of the blaze we enjoyed late into the evening as we watched Christmas movies together, and Dolly’ gentle snoring disturb the silence. I gaze out the window at the equally still morning outside.
Small white flakes are falling gentle as goose down, swirling in the occasional soft gust. The tops of things and roofs are just frosted with the accumulated snow flakes, not the ground, not yet. A small thrill of excitement rises in my chest; we have not had a white Christmas since 1981, but it looks very promising this year.
We have in fact had 3 snowfalls this year, one of them pretty heavy – heavy for us; quite minor by the standards of some others – which is unusual. We don’t normally get snowfall until mid January or February. So the odds of enjoying a white Christmas where we are is slim.
To find snow on Christmas day, we must pile into our truck and head up into the higher mountains. Chestnut and Round Mountains rarely disappoint. But to get up and find snow falling outside our window on Christmas morning is a rare treat indeed.
Our mountain; Piney Mountain, does not have the elevation to reach up into the usual snow lines. Elevation makes a marked difference in whether precipitation falls as rain or now. During our last snowfall I took this photo which shows how suddenly this change can come about. An extra 100 feet on this mountain slope changes the topography from wet with rain to snow-covered. It is really quite amazing, and is just one of the reasons we love living here so much.
The single flakes have begun to pair up and twirl like dancers in the air, then the pairs begin to combine as the dancers become more numerous and clusters of flakes whirl and twirl; a nearly infinite barn dance in the air.
The snow begins to stick to the grass now… yes’sir, we are going to have ourselves a white Christmas for sure.
I hear stirrings of wakefulness in the other rooms now. I lay another log on the fire and head into the kitchen to start breakfast.
Merry Christmas to you and yours!
Blondie n me got up early and went mater hunting this morning. We knowed of a spot where they hang out. We got where we figured they’d be and sure enough: a whole bunch of ‘em just baskin’ in the sun an bein’ lazy.
As the orange orb of the sun slid down behind English mountain, splashing the sky with rose, vermillion and mauve, the day’s heat began to wane. The air began to move; caressing their cheeks to further cool them as they sat in their rockers on the porch before it drifted off to play among the trees. The rustling leaves were like music.
Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room’s only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.
