Wednesday, December 21, 2011

White Christmas

Snow falling, fires crackling, candles glowing. The heady scent of fir and spices.
Although I've never actually experienced a white Christmas, every non-white Christmas feels slightly wrong. Candles. Tick. Fir. Spices. Tick. 
But something's missing. And I think it might be the cold, white stuff. Which is odd, as I suspect it was not snowing on Christ's real birthday. But so it is. 
Despite many trips to the UK I've always managed to miss out on the actual Christmas bit - although on occasions I've stayed so late into November the lights and trees have come up. 
The closest I've actually got was... the Christmas my Sprocket was one.... and my Poppet was about 12 weeks cooking on the inside. Mmmm. Those were really fun flights. 
Not wishful of denying ever-loving parents of their then-only grandchild over Christmas we flew over to the Old Countries on New Years Eve. And... we lucked out. Many places had not yet taken down their Christmas decorations and in Latvia things were still happening in (I think) preparation for the Orthodox Christmas. 
While the highlight of our trip was catching up with relatives and friends (particularly my Pappy who we won't get to see again) seeing a white almost - Christmas was magical. Yep. Even with the morning sickness. (See, you were with us, my Poppet! 5 countries in 21 days before you were even born - you're going to be a traveller, girl!)

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