Snow
I miss snow.
There is a sweet beauty in hoping for a Winter Wonderland on Christmas morning. I miss seeing icicles hanging from the edge of the roof and the landscape sparkling in the morning sunlight from the ice on the trees, pristine white blanketing everything. The purity of the image has always struck me as nothing short of amazing. All the sharp edges are gone, graceful curves cover the world. Purity and grace…
There is something wrong with it being 66 degrees and sunny outside right now. I sit here in my jeans, t-shirt and barefeet longing to feel like I’m cocooning inside my warm home, snuggled against the cold winds that are blowing outside, with a warm cup of hot cocoa melting the ice from my fingers. Can I pretend?
There is a happiness even in the memories of the sounds…stomping our feet on the porch to get the snow off before coming indoors, crackling of the wood in the fireplace, even my teeth chattering and my groans to go inside and warm up already! I can hear the crunch of the snow as we rolled giant snowballs to make a snowman. I loved hearing the tinkling of the ice as it fell off the branches, and then the cracking of the branches as those fell off the trees. And when it was cold enough to freeze the lake, you could hear the loud pops as the ice creaked and groaned. Sounds echoed in the holler…
We have lived in Florida for seven years now. I admittedly love it when it is warmer here than the rest of the country. I delight in rubbing it in with the rest of my family and friends when they are cold and shivering and I am enjoying the sun and mild temperatures.
But not at Christmas. Its tied to the memories.
Oh, the sledding! Who can forget the sledding! We had the best hills in the holler…and when we got those tracks packed down really good, we flew! And watch out if you missed the curve at the bottom…ouch! I was not so fond of the snowball fights, unless I was the one winning, of course. Nothing ruins a good snowball fight quicker than a cold snow bath down your back, ahem, little brother.
Those are the best memories of all. Hoping for snow the week of Christmas, wrapping up warmly in a scarf, glove, and heavy jacket, then figuring out how to wear a hat so it doesn’t mess up my hair. Yup, those are the days.
But, come January, I’ll rub it in again that we live in the Sunshine State.
LilKat1 is convinced that he wants a sled for Christmas. I keep telling him that we don’t get snow very much, and when we do, there isn’t a lot there. But he still wants his sled, just in case.
And…ummm…what’s a holler?
I’m with you on missing snow for Christmas. My life has been split between places with warm winters and places with snow, and there really is something magical about a white winter–partly in that it makes you appreciate a warm house so much more!
Holler is actually a “hollow” - in Kentucky, sort of a valley between hills. The property we live is called “Sand Holler.” Add a Southern drawl and it sounds right.
Interesting…but I don’t think we have hollows around here either.
What’s the difference between a valley and a hollow? Do you have valleys that are called ‘vallers’?
Hmmmm….I guess I always saw valleys as between mountains and “holler”’s as between hills? Ah - dictionary.com says “9. a valley: They took the sheep to graze in the hollow. ” There you have it!