It Is Christmas

It's pouring down here today. So much so that we are under a flood watch through much of Saturday.

Not the best kind of weather to be finishing up the last of the shopping, but if you are all done, then it's the perfect day for nesting.

 

 

 It is Christmas in the mansion,
Yule-log fires and silkin frocks.
It is Christmas in the cottage,
Mother filling little socks.
It is Christmas in the highway,
In the thronging, busy mart.
But the dearest, truest Christmas
Is the Christmas in the heart.
Author Unknown

 

A Mid-December Stroll

Snowflakes fell from the sky, unusual for this time of the year, in Tennessee.

No accumulations, just gently falling, like a dusting of confectioners sugar on a bare landscape.

 

 

" The rapid nightfall of mid-December had quite beset the little villages they approached on soft feet over a first thin fall of powdery snow.
Little was visible but squares of a dusky orange-red on either side of the street, where the firelight or lamplight of each cottage overflowed through the casements into the dark world without.
Most of the low latticed windows were innocent of blinds, and moving from one to another, the lookers-in, so far from home themselves, watched a cat being stroked, a sleepy child picked up and huddled off to bed, or a tired man stretch and knock out his pipe on the end of a smouldering log."

Ratty and Mole, In The Village. ~ Wind in the Willows