I took an hour this week as the sun began to set and went for a walk. The hour I spent alone just walking felt luxurious...
It was a cloudy afternoon. In fact, there was a bit of fog and as I walked along the edge of town, it was hard to tell where the snow ended and the sky began. The homes began to light up, warm and cozy. There was the scent of wood smoke in the air from a fireplace. Christmas lights outlined the architecture of houses, encircled trees, and twinkled. The Brits call them fairy lights, which I think is perfect.
As much as I love seeing holiday lights in the dark of an evening, I find that I enjoy them even more as the dusk is starting to settle in...that image that Marilynne Robinson writes about in "Gilead." The image of light within light.
Fog muffles sound almost as much as snowfall does. The only sound out there was the crunch of the snow under my boots. A quiet snowy late afternoon in December. Something so simple, but so profound.
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