The holiday season is going by in a blur. Although it hasn't felt that way due to uncanny weather. We put the Christmas tree up the day after Thanksgiving. The neighborhood is all aglow with twinkling lights, blow-up Santas and wonderland snowglobes. Stores put up holiday displays back in October. Carols play over the loud speakers in every store for weeks. I can't even get in the van without hearing The 12 Pains of Christmas. When the kiddos are riding along I have to put on the all Christmas music channel or hear them beg and plead for it till I do. But there wasn't any snow. Instead of feeling the joyous holiday spirit by singing Winter Wonderland I've felt more compelled to sing It's raining. It's pouring. The old man is snoring.
That is until this week. Saturday the first snowflakes fell and I couldn't have been happier. That day Munchkins 3 and 4 and I went shopping. We sang carols with more gusto than could be considered sane as we traveled to the craft store, where we bought kits to make ornaments and made duct tape purses. Then to the mall to spend the rest of my savings. All the while giant flakes fell from a grey sky. When we got back home the tree lights were turned on, the shades were drawn back, and the kids got to work on their crafts. I lit the fireplace. Then began writing. It was bliss.
Maybe it's just me but nothing makes this time of year more festive than snow blanketing the earth, dressing the trees, and frosting the window frames. My fondest childhood memories include sipping hot cocoa topped with melting marshmellows while watching the crystalline wonder drift down from the heavens through the picture window behind my parents' Christmas tree. No matter what my munchkins think about what Santa Claus brings them on the 25th I hope what they remember years from now is that great day we had shopping and crafting on a snowy day.
(Disclaimer: For as much as I obviously love snow, after the holidays it can go back to rain.)