Recounting the few items that will silhouette my year’s end festivities. May your year-end celebrations be merry and bright as you do December your way.
Christmas is magic and Christmas is love. Here's a story of how my heart grew a few inches that Christmas a long time ago.
The country that raised me boasted of one season throughout the year, but perhaps it was because we wished for snow so much, but at Christmas time, we often pulled out sweaters to ward off the chill. And mother read us stories of Christmases in cold countries. Hope you enjoy these from Librivox.
Some things, one never forgets, and that includes feelings and smells too. For me, Christmas smelled like apples and cinnamon and spices and home.
What were your childhood Christmases like? Read about the follies of someone who had never seen a White Christmas. Nostalgic remembrances of how Father brought her and her siblings a white Christmas, and how Mother added a deeper layer of meaning.