Of all the trees that are in the wood, the holly bears the crown.
[Afternoon of Monday, June 7 (day 372)]
[Down on the Pontarlier]
...well I was certainly not expecting this, I must say ( Read more... )
[Down on the Pontarlier]
...well I was certainly not expecting this, I must say ( Read more... )
but I still could only stand and gape as I looked out the window this morning. Ten days from my birthday, at the exact middle of the year, and it looks as if I woke up in a winter wonderland.
Well. There was nothing else for it. I found a charming red, velvet dress in the closet with fitted sleeves and a full skirt, and was surprised to find something to match for Rose. Business was brisk for the morning and lunch, but I did not mind at all. Everyone semmed just as surprised by the snow, but just as delighted.
Finally, I could not stand it anymore. I turned the shoppe over to Romana, found a soft, warm bunting for Rose, and ventured out to see the rest of the town. Christmas it seems has come again. Rose looks about in wonder, and I am happy to point out snowmen and snow forts and evergreens.
We wander down to the river, and I am again surprised to see the river frozen over and people skating. I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in months, and spin around, the snow swirling about my calves. Of course, the happiness turns into song, and not caring who hears I start singing.
Good King Wenceslas looked out
on the feast of Stephen,
when the snow lay round about,
deep and crisp and even.
Brightly shown the moon that night,
though the frost was cruel,
when a poor man came in sight,
gathering winter fuel.
Hither, page, and stand by me.
If thou know it telling:
yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?
Sire, he lives a good league hence,
underneath the mountain,
right against the forest fence
by Saint Agnes fountain.
Laugh again and Rose squeals happily.
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