Merry Christmas…
I’m dreaming of a white Christmas, always. But it appears my Christmas will be blue. From where I sit the painted window glass depicting frosty white scenes of snow laden trees atop swirling snow banks only slightly obscures the world of dark green and blue Gulf Island forests beyond. Low clouds smother the tops of the islands and wispy bits of clouds rise like steamy mist out of the trees. The islands float by along the ferry crossing from Vancouver Island to mainland Canada. Whimsical patterns of painted snowflakes spread across the winter scenes. I wish I could pop them out into the sky over the ocean, over the islands floating by, and make it snow over everything in sight! Instead, it’s a wet Christmas, a blue ocean, blue island, blue forest, blue cloudy sky Christmas.
The blue winter is beautiful in its own way. The watery roads on my trek home to Washington State streak the red taillights of cars long across their rippling wet surface. There’s a kind of synth, cyberpunk, Blade Runner-esque melancholy to the Pacific Northwest blue winter. It’s moody. I can almost sink into it, but the whitecaps on the wind blown wafers reignite my longing for snow. This blue water world crested with white is truly a sight to behold, and I’m lucky enough to know what I’m missing. The snow here starts with a dusting. Large wet flakes splat their icy crystals onto the melting wet, but as they gently feather the ground the ice-chill intensifies. A thickening of the wet occurs until gradually the melting wet slicks into ice and frost layers coating the surfaces of things. This is when the real magic starts to happen. The snow begins to stick, and every snow lover around watching out the window cries with glee, “It’s sticking! It’s sticking!” It’s a winter wonderland dream come true. The snow layers down and piles up rapidly burying lawn and curb and sidewalk and street in downy white perfection. Tree limbs droop with the encumbrance of their frosty blankets. Rooftops stand a foot taller and rounded in a soft cartoonish aesthetic of winter. I simultaneously wish to look upon the idyllic winter world never disturbing a thing and also to be the first to tread my prints into the fresh blank landscape. The blue world becomes the white world, for a time, and, for this Christmas, only in my dreams.
Whether yours is green, blue, brown, golden, or tremendously spectacularly white, have yourself a Merry Christmas!!!
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