It was a quiet and chilling night, with slithering streams of frozen ice dangling from the rooftop above. The spindly branches reaching outward into the night on the Japanese red maple were encrusted with layers of frosty white snowflakes, delicately piled on top of one another. Footprints in the snow crimped the perimeter of the yard like the crust on the fresh pie just out of the oven in the house behind.
Distantly in the otherwise still, snow-covered neighborhood, one could hear the sounds of jingling bells and voices singing a favorite carol. There was a glow in the fireplace where stockings hung straight as arrows.
It had been cold for days, with snow and freezing rain and then snow once again. It was indeed a winter wonderland, something perhaps from Norman Rockwell’s brush. The festive lights entrained around bushes and lampposts of all kinds sparkled in the crisp winter night.
The weather forecast called for more of the same, causing Dad to sigh and feel his aching lower back — yet another day to shovel the driveway!
