During the first 22 Christmases of my life we had exactly one Christmas without at least a few inches of snow on the ground. Christmas was white, period. It was not something I thought much about and certainly took for granted. Then I moved here. Snow is not a given during winter months and is actually more of a rare occurrence then anything else. I find that disheartening. I enjoy the snow. And I long to see a snow covered ground on Christmas morning. We have had exactly zero white Christmases since Cale and I moved here 7 falls ago. (Well, one of them was white, but wouldn't you know it- we weren't here! We were living in Namibia! And it was oh about, 110 degrees there!)
It's not looking likely that there will be any snow on the ground come Christmas morning. But what do those weather people know anyways! I'm still holding out hope (and yes, even praying a small prayer or two) that my dreams will come true. And if they don't, I have mastered the art of delusion regarding this matter. The blinds and curtains will remain closed for the duration and we'll just pretend that the glow from outside is just the sun reflecting off the new fallen (imaginary) snow.
I'm so not kidding.
Here's to hoping for a white Christmas- one way or another!