The
holiday is just around the corner and am going and coming in a feverish rush of
cleaning and baking; you see, all my children will be here this Christmas
season and also my very first grandchild.
The
whole house exudes aromas of cinnamon, cloves and vanilla; two make-ahead
casseroles are already out of the oven, and I still need to get into the
Christmas ornament boxes to select only the best ones for this season. We’ll
trim the tree once they are all here.
We haven’t been able to string the lights
or set out the luminarias yet as the wind in this part of the desert may blow
them all out before the actual holiday arrives.
Some
of the kids are arriving tonight, some tomorrow, late. They all come for some Sonoran sun, and
perfect winter hikes, on perfect winter days.
They all come to Arizona for a sun tan, already fed-up with one of the crudest US
winters in recent times.
Our Scotch pine, only recently cut,
proclaims its fresh scent throughout our spacious abode of Mexican tile bordered
on the outside by prickly cacti and the Ocotillo, Cholla and Joshua trees, seemingly taken out of a Dr. Seuss children’s story.
We are heating the pool so that the kids
may go for a quick swim and truly voice the fact that they spent the holidays
in a place where winter is hardly acknowledged.
When our eldest daughter’s flight was cancelled
because of heavy snow and ice in Seattle, we tried everything to reroute her
through other means. She finally made it to Tucson two days before Christmas. All the others found their way without mishap.
In
spite of a warm swimming pool, it was too cold to swim so we sat in the
loungers facing the sun, lit the fire pits and hiked.
On Christmas Eve, on our way back from
the caroling service, the night appeared starry and clear; cold, there
was no quilt of clouds to keep in any of the afternoon warmth. By 3 AM however, the first snowflakes began
to fall. By morning, our house, which
sits at the base of the Santa Catalinas was covered by snow, much like the snowfalls
etched in our memories from our previous life in Colorado. The mountains looked regal, majestic in their
holiday blanket.
With first light we saw a family of javalinas
leaving their hoof prints on the sheathed street; weak sunshine made the effort
to filter through massive dark clouds.
A red fox ran up our front Chilean
Mesquite, surely inspecting the happy faces on the other side of the French
windows; our little granddaughter: captivated in this second Christmas that she may perhaps keep in her subconscious all her life.
We had a white Christmas in Arizona after
all. My family gathered round me; steaming
coffee or hot cider in hand, a roaring fire and a twinkling holiday fir. What else would we need?
The
peace and love of the season gratifies me year after year as I recount the
blessings I’ve been so fortunate to receive.
The saguaros and barrel cacti are
surrounded by snow, some even caught up in their thorns, and on top of the
Santa Claus hats I place on their heads when a cold wave is announced. Birds fly from branch to branch sending thin
plumes of snow onto the gravel below.
By noon that Christmas Day, the weather
was partly cloudy and cold. My children
and I decided on a long walk up Golf Course Drive, mug of spicy tea along; posing for countless
pictures; enjoying each other’s company and the neighbors’ lovely
decorations.
An Arizona Christmas to
remember. ESW
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