It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas, which is good cause it’s only five sleeps away, not to mention there’s enough snow on the ground that it’s looking like a white Dec. 25 is very much in the cards.
Something about snow and Christmas that’s so right it’s magical. Everything sparkles a little more with a fresh dusting of snow.
In fact, I remember quite distinctly one year, as a young boy, looking out the picture window of our living room on 16th Street on Christmas Eve feeling quite blue about all the green outside and saying a little prayer for snow.
Well, apparently the little prayer was heard, big time, as over a foot of snow (maybe two, it’s getting higher as the years go by) fell during the night and it wasn’t just a white Christmas, it was an instant winter wonderland.
In fact, it snowed so much – how much did it snow Glenn? – we had to take a taxi to church that morning cause we couldn’t get out of our driveway, and I’m pretty sure that’s the one and only time we ever took a taxi in Vernon, let alone on Christmas Day.
So it was truly memorable.
I felt somehow responsible for this meteorological manifestation of my childhood wishes but I didn’t tell anyone.
Besides, I’m sure most people were happy about it, especially the kids. And the cab companies. You’re welcome.
Now, I know some of you might be skeptical of my recollection of this minor Christmas miracle, I probably would be too if someone told it to me, as I know fond childhood memories are often exaggerated and combined and sometimes just plain wrong as we idealize our upbringing to include cherished moments that, well, may have not happened in reality.
However, I stand by it. And I assume one could even maybe look up old weather records at the museum and see if there was a dump of snow on the 24th of December in the, oh, late 1960s, early ’70s, I will get on that but the story, and the miracle, stand as far as I’m concerned.
And another Christmas story that may not have been a miracle but involved snow making another little boy very happy.
Again it involved myself looking out the picture window of my house, only this time I was an adult, wistfully wondering if snow was going to come in time for Christmas so our two little boys could truly enjoy all the season has to offer.
Now, it wasn’t Christmas Eve, in fact it was several days, maybe even weeks, before the big day but there was a sentiment that it was time for snow to come and cover the ground soon.
And without me praying or anything, big huge white flakes started to fall and I couldn’t help but smile and call out and ask my four-year-old son to join me on the couch and check it out.
He bounded up on the couch next to me, looked out at all the white stuff falling onto the front yard of our house – and promptly bounced off the couch and ran out of the living room and out of sight somewhere in the kitchen or dining area.
I thought this was most odd behaviour as I figured he would be excited about the onset of snow and all that entails, what with snowmen to make, snow angels to perfect and even snowforts to construct.
I needn’t of been concerned.
He returned shortly, excited and full of good, make that, great news.
“Dad,” he said, almost out of breath with all the excitement. “It’s snowing in the backyard too.”
I stand corrected. It was a miracle after all. It was snowing in both the front and backyards.
We were truly blessed and it was going to be another wonderful Christmas after all.
So, again, barring any isolated rain showers melting the blankets of white in our respective backyards, this too could be a miraculous Christmas.
Glenn Mitchell is a columnist and former editor of The Morning Star. Fan mail can be emailed to firstname.lastname@example.org.