But here a small boy says: “It snowed last year, too. I made a snowman and my brother knocked it down and I knocked my brother down and then we had tea.”
“But that was not the same snow,” I say. “Our snow was not only shaken from white wash buckets down the sky, it came shawling out of the ground and swam and drifted out of the arms and hands and bodies of the trees; snow grew overnight on the roofs of the houses like a pure and grandfather moss, minutely -ivied the walls and settled on the postman, opening the gate, like a dumb, numb thunder-storm of white, torn Christmas cards.”
— Dylan Thomas, A Child’s Christmas in Wales
It is not the same snow here, today, this year, either, not like the snow Thomas remembered. Instead a powdered sugar sprinkling appeared in the night, coating the cars on the street around us, filling in the deer and people tracks that marked the yard, and calming somewhat the few noises of this Christmas morning.
May your days in this season be bright and beautiful, whether your holiday is Christmas, Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, Yule, or nothing at all.
And we wish all …
Kellemes Karacsonyi unnepeket
Nollaig Shona Dhuit