Last night it rained, but the morning is clear and bright. It is in the 40’s. Tonight will be a bit more wintry, down to the 30’s. By Saturday, that will be the daytime temperature. It’s a perfect time to snuggle under a blanket on the couch. I’m thinking a cup of cocoa in hand with Marshmallow Fluff floating on the top would hit the spot.

When I was a kid, the mailman came twice a day during the Christmas season. Our mailbox was filled with cards each time. We’d take turns opening the cards then hang them on the string strung across the living room wall behind the couch. My mother had a card box filled with index cards with names at the top. She’d keep track of sent and received cards. If a couple of years went by with no card, my mother would stop sending a Christmas card to the miscreant. Their index card was banished to the back of the box.

I’d lie on the floor in front of the tree and go through the Sears catalog time and time again. I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss anything, and I wanted to keep my list for Santa up to date. No clothes ever made the list, no self-serving kid ever wanted clothes at Christmas.

We watched Santa Claus on TV in the afternoons. He was on a station from New Hampshire. He’d chat, show toys the elves had made and sometimes read a book. He’d countdown the days until Christmas Eve, his big day. I remember on that day he’d get the reindeer ready and remind us we needed to be asleep before his arrival.

Christmas lights brighten every room in my downstairs, even the bathroom. I go around every night turning them on. The tree is always first. I light it then stand awhile just looking at the tree. It always delights me. The table lights, the fireplace lights and three Santas are next. I leave the lamps unlit. The room is magical. The room is lit with Christmas.

My house smells like Christmas. The aroma of pine fills the air. Cinnamon, cloves, cranberries and orange rinds simmer on the stove. It smells almost good enough to eat.

Sorry about yesterday. It was late afternoon when I got home, and I needed to decorate my tree. I’m happy to say it is ready for ornaments. The lights and tinsel are on the tree. It took me a while to get the tinsel just right. I also added popcorn and cranberries strings, stars and a strand of colorful balls of yarn. The tree is perfect.

It started raining around two this morning. It is gone now, but the rain left the day dark and damp; however it does have a saving factor. Right now it is 53°.

When I was a kid, I always wanted a white Christmas. Snow at Christmas seemed magical. After all, Santa had a sleigh. How could we build Frosty without snow? Even Scrooge had snow. I’d look out the window hoping for a miracle. Sometimes I got one.

In Ghana, where I lived, Christmas was harmattan time when hot, dry winds carried sand from the Sahara. The days were often hazy, and the sun was hidden. The dryness chapped my lips and my heels cracked. I slathered everything with lotion, but I had to walk on my tiptoes for a while. One good part of the harmattan was the bugs disappeared. Another was the dry heat during the day which made the, sometimes, 100° more bearable, but the best parts were the nights. The temperature dropped sometimes as low as the 60’s, and I swear it got down to the 50’s a few nights. I was cold. It was the most wonderful feeling. I bought a wool blanket, still have it.

When I had a party on Christmas Eve my first year in Ghana, my house was filled with Peace Corps volunteers going north. They had stopped in Bolgatanga, where I lived, to get transport as Bolga was close to the northern border of Ghana and what was Upper Volta, now Burkina Faso. Toward the end of the party, some of us went outside behind my house and sat and talked. The night was magnificent. The sky was so filled with stars the darkness had disappeared. The air was chilly, a wonderful feeling after the heat of the day. It was then we realized that this night filled with stars and a bit of a chill might just be the same as that night in Bethlehem. We sat quietly for a bit then went back into the house.

That first Christmas so far from home was unexpectedly amazing.