As a little girl I used to pray so desperately for a white Christmas, but (at least as far as I can remember) Seattle and England never gave it up. I don’t know if I will ever get over the thrill of living in place that routinely provides gorgeous snowy Christmases.
We’re getting our second snow of the week right now and this afternoon I walked to the mailbox in 3 inches of snow as the flakes gently fell, and I got to look at the tracks of the animals that have been trekking across our field. There were the tracks that turned into a dug out hole and a pile of tossed snow. There were the larger tracks coming out of the drain pipe near the road that tell me our winter fox is back and using his usual shelter. And the biggest tracks of all from the buck that eats from our neighbor’s bird feeder. And it doesn’t for one second escape me how lucky I am to see such things as I walk to the mailbox to retrieve more Christmas cards!
