In the Dark of December

These are unusually mild days for December, and I have been enjoying walking the streets of Highlands on the days when I am not running.  It is great cross-training and, as I have declared in these pages before, a slower pace reveals a different world passing by.  It is a world seen and heard in more minute detail:  blue skies, the fragrance of chimney smoke on the air.  Today I walked beneath the outstretched tobacco-colored leaves of oak trees on Fifth Street that were still tenaciously hanging on as they will be for most of the winter.  They made a high, tinkling sound, like sleet falling lightly on the roof.  In the distance a hammer was being swung idly somewhere on Village Walk, where all of the roofs are being replaced by crews of Hispanic carpenters.  I could hear their jovial chattering and laughing as I walked up Chestnut Street.

If you walk through this little Town at night, it is even more magical:  all the lights are on, and the skating rink is beautiful even when unoccupied after dark.

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and the streets today were filled with visitors - families with children, folks exclaiming at the decorations in the shop windows.  I exchanged "Merry Christmases" with so many friends and complete strangers that I lost count.  Despite the alarming headlines in the national news, people in Highlands today seemed to be filled with a peaceful, amiable kind of seasonal warmth.  I am under no delusion that this is the way most of the world lives - strolling brick-lined streets with shopping bags in hand - but I decided to forget about Trump and Assad and refugees drowning in the Mediterranean for just a little while and simply savor the feeling of peace on earth, goodwill toward men, as we pray it might eventually be in God's goodness and grace.  Winter Solstice has come and gone and tomorrow is Christmas Eve.

“I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December
A magical thing
And sweet to remember.

We are nearer to Spring
Than we were in September
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December.”
 – Oliver Herford"