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December 2012

This year I’ve given into the feel-good joy that most people experience at Christmastime. Usually I try to Grinch out until the last possible moment, but that becomes its own onerous effort after a while, and sometimes it’s easier to give in and go with the flow. As such, I set aside last weekend for our Boston Holiday stroll, when Kira and I take a long walk through the city, stopping at various places for food and drink, doing a little holiday shopping, and taking part in the festive merriment that marks the season.

There is no set schedule, no tight time table, and not even a rough idea of where we’ll go or end up. I’m not usually comfortable with that (being a Virgo through and through), but with Kira, and at this time of the year, it’s all right. In fact, it’s welcome.

There are enough schedules to keep, enough structured events and specially-coordinated outfits to wear in the coming weeks. This was a time to keep it all casual and fun, and like so many of our best times it went completely unplanned.

By the time dusk descended, the snow had stopped. Christmas decorations were all around, and store windows glowed in the gathering darkness, their lights spilling out onto the sidewalks.

At the end of a cold day, and the start of a long night, an old-fashioned by the fire is one of the coziest notions. It warms the heart and the hearth, and cures whatever coldness lingers within.

The glow of the holidays is upon us.

It must have started snowing at the break of dawn, for by the time we awoke there was already a pristine white dusting on the cars and streets. Looking out of the window, I could see that this was the perfect snowfall – slow, calm, windless, and peaceful – more picturesque than powerful. Ideal for a holiday walk through the city of Boston. Bundled up in scarves and hats, Kira and I stepped outside. I had a loose idea of where we were headed, and the first stop was a quick stroll through the Boston Public Garden.

Most of the time I’ve spent in the Public Garden has been during the sunnier months, and on the sunnier days. It is decidedly less magical in the pouring rain and blowing wind. On this morning, however, conditions were holiday-postcard-worthy. A little snowfall lends a lot of enchantment, and on this barely-snowy day it was a treat to see the Garden in its pre-winter light.

There’s something about snowfall and willow trees that speaks to the heart of beauty. With or without leaves.

The gnarled trunks of elderly trees give off an other-worldly glow, their architecture highlighted by the bright layer of snow. The pond, not yet drained or frozen over, still provides a home to various waterfowl. We are never quite alone in the Garden.

At the edge of the pond, where the three states of water meet and co-mingle, a reflection of the city I so love.

This is the sort of snowfall that I like best, and even Kira, in her sockless flats, admits it makes a beautiful scene. We huddle close and traipse along the winding path that will lead us to Charles Street, to a Tibetan store that I know carries the warmest pairs of woolen gloves and mittens (because it must get frigid in Tibet).

As we exit the iron gates of the Garden and cross the street to Beacon Hill, it feels like we’ve gone back to two turns of the century ago. I just wish I’d thought to bring my bustle.