To all who wander in here to read my first blog entry: Greetings!
I am writing this on the eve of the Winter Solstice–the first day of winter. Unlike many creatures, I like winter, at least winter in North Carolina. Once the holidays make their exit, winter is a slower, quieter time of year and I find it to be the best time for writing.
Winter is a perfect time for reading, too. Each Christmas, our family retrieves a huge pile of books from the attic, little treats to enjoy when it’s cold outside. Of course we have the golden chestnuts–the Grinch, Scrooge, St. Nick, Clara–but there are other lesser known books and lesser known characters I’ve grown to love as well. I am especially intrigued by how various writers describe the dance of light and darkness, of merriment and solemnity, of warmth and cold, of the fragility and resilience of life that comes so close to our conscious minds this time of year.
So for this, my first hurried blog written in the mad rush before Christmas, I give to you a few favorite quotes:
“There wasn’t a flake of snow in the sky. But the sky was dark and low, and there was the dark smell of winter air before snow. And then, click, the street lights clicked on all over town And as the heavens turned dark beyond the window, one by one, the snowflakes began to fall out of the sky.”
Margaret Wise Brown, A Pussycat’s Christmas
“Looking through my bedroom window, out into the moonlight and the unending smoke-colored snow, I could see the lights in the windows of all the other houses on our hill and hear the music rising from them up the long, steady falling night. I turned the gas down, I got into bed. I said some words to the close and holy darkness, and then I slept.”
Dylan Thomas, A Child’s Christmas in Wales
“Time is a little girl who leans her lovely face into yours and pulls you laughing through the backstreets and boulevards and in and out of windows of not quite forever, and, someday, when she’s tired of her play, she lets go of your hand.”
Jessica Radcliffe, Time Is a Little Girl
“Oh my! It’s fruitcake weather, Buddy.”
Truman Capote, A Christmas Memory