I love this poem by Henry W. Longfellow--
Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.
The rest of the poem is more melancholy so I've left it off.
Christmas preparations are underway - today I'm baking - shortbread, first of all, then chocolate marshmallow roll. We hope to get our tree today at the nursery and decorate it.
Last night was my husband's work party. At the restaurant where it was held, a storyteller recited Dickens "A Christmas Carol," with wonderful voices and expressions. He spoke for nearly an hour - it was beautifully done. I thought how much we've lost in relying on videos and technology when the human voice and literature can provide so much enjoyment.