This weekend dumped a foot of snow on us (and on the Arizona football team that tried to beat the Patriots in weather they weren't used to!) and this morning sunlight shining on the icicles reminds me of the crystal chandelier that hung over our dining room table when I was growing up.
so winter is really here and I'm sure my son and his two boys will be out on the slopes with their skiis and snowboards before long. First, though, they will be with me for a couple of days at Christmas, as will my San Francisco daughter, flying in on 12/26.
Christmas was magical for me as a child, and I'm sure most people my age remember it the same way. But it was never lavish or extravagant. I always received a book or two, as gifts---when I was quite young, there was always a Marguerite deAngeli book---my two favorites were "Thee, Hannah!" and "Henner's Lydia"---both of them set in Pennsylvania, where I lived.
When I was eleven, we left the United States to live in Japan for a few years, and my mother donated all of our books to the public library. She meant well. But in later years I so often mourned their loss. Then, a librarian who heard me speak of the de Angeli books when I was at a conference in Mississippi sent me ALL of them--because they were being dropped from her library's collection. What a wonderful gift!
They still held---and hold---the same magic for me that they did when I was a child. But none at all for my grandchildren....or for the patrons of that library. Times change....