Hibernation weather

Well, it's snowing and snowing and snowing. Which it has been, off and on, since the afternoon of New Year's Eve, but now it's getting serious out there. I'm glad I forced myself to shovel out this morning, as soon as I'd eaten, showered and dressed, since now besides snowing heavier the wind has come up, and the snow is blowing all over the place. I wouldn't have shoveled out at all -- would have just holed up in my little house, as I did all day yesterday -- were it not that I was getting low on food. And the weather forecast was telling me it would be even worse tomorrow. In Maine you ignore weather forecasts at your peril -- they're sometimes wrong, but not often -- and shoveling 4-6 inches sounded better than a foot.

The first week I was in Texas it often got up close to 70 degrees -- indeed, when I arrived at nine o'clock in the evening on Dec. 14th it was 68 degrees (it had been 30 when I left Maine). I had taken a pair of shorts, just in case, and wore them several times. By the Christmas weekend a cold front had moved in and the daily highs were about 55. For myself, my brother who lives in Santa Fe, and my sister who lives in Colorado -- who have all lived in colder climes for many years now, and simply can no longer tolerate the extreme Texas heat -- this was weather sent from heaven. At night it was pleasantly, seasonably cold.

Jeremiah and I went for a walk around the neighborhood Christmas night, relishing the crisp air. We enjoyed seeing the sidewalks lined with farolitos. I was reminded of the first time I ever saw these lights-in-a-bag, when I visited my brother in Santa Fe in 1987. Christmas Eve he took me on the Farolito Walk, along Canyon Road. Hundreds of little brown "lunch" bags, with light glimmering through them in a welcoming kind of way. Back then most people were still using real candles set in sand at the bottom of the bag. Now I believe most people use bags with electric candles in them -- certainly the ones we saw in S.A. were all like that. And in Santa Fe there were the occasional small bonfires, called luminarias, where you could warm your hands and chat with people. Someone might be serving hot cider or chocolate. Everyone very friendly, but it wasn't boisterous. A lovely community tradition.

On this year's walk (and how amazing to think that that other walk took place over 20 years ago. We weren't spring chickens even then, but Jeremiah was still dancing -- I went to a couple of his perform-ances -- and we weren't senior citizens, as we now officially are)...on this year's walk, we were also quite taken with the tree trunks and branches that were completely covered with lights. We decided there must be a mesh drapery covered with lights that one wrapped around the trunk and branches; you'd never be able to get such regularity, and such total coverage, stringing lights yourself. Besides which, it would take you forever. It looked like a major undertaking as it was; some people are really serious about decorating for Christmas.

As yet another example: one house had a little Ferris wheel turning (ever so slowly) on the lawn. It was about the size of a small swing set, and the seats were occupied by Santa elves. On another lawn Santa's sleigh, looking big enough to hold a real Santa, was all lit up. And there were lots of lit-up wreaths (they're mainly non-electric here in Maine), and large candy canes, and reindeer, and little polar bears. And one giant, inflated Santa, that Jeremiah swore, until he got up close enough to see it clearly, was a penguin.

So, what the heck, it's the holidays in New England -- let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.