Watching the corn-stubbled fields glazed with ice crystals reflecting the full moon pass too quickly, I peered through the frosted windows of my uncle's car. Occasionally, a yard light pierced the darkness, shadowing the barns and sheds in an eerie glow that made my youthful imagination look for spirits. Maybe they were the spirits of Christmas. Maybe they were Santa's helpers. I tried to sit very still and soon fell asleep snuggled against my mother's warm fur coat.
In what seemed a brief moment, we were turning into the driveway at my grandparents' farm. I shivered in the cold, clear air, running to the warmth of my grandmother's embrace. Many times, my brother and I had spent summers on the farm, but we had never experienced winter there before.
The family farm had been inhabited by our ancestors for over 100 years. Its stately white house with pillars holding the beckoning overhead porch framed in white pickets, was always a temptation for my brother and me; we longed to climb out the bedroom windows onto the tempting overhang just to observe the far-flung empty fields.
But not tonight! Grandma said we had to lug our suitcases up the stairs to choose our bedrooms: north room, south room or middle room. I usually chose the middle room with its fluffy feather mattress where I could sink into heaven for happy dreams. My brother chose the north room to sleep beside the uncle he so emulated. My parents chose the south room because it was considered the desired room for guests with its tiny-flowered wallpaper, crisp organdy curtains and newly laundered outdoorsy sheets. The other room on this floor was "the attic" as Grandma called it. We played in there when the weather was too soggy or inclement for us to be outdoors. It did not take us long to settle in, and soon in cuddly pajamas, we were out.
It stormed during the night, and the whistling wind had swirled the snow into huge waves of crystal white. It was beautiful. As we climbed on chairs to peek out the kitchen windows, we noticed the huge red barns wore their snow coats. We did not see any animals. When I inquired, my uncle said they fed the animals inside the barns in the winter, and their bodies embracing each other and their young ones kept them warm. Soon he would wade through the snow to make sure they were fed and watered. We begged to go along.
Bundled in warm coats, swathed in colorful wool scarves, and with our woolen leggings tucked in heavy boots, we almost forgot our warm mittens. We climbed snow mountains, launched snowballs and laughed and played; we forgot about helping to feed the animals, but our uncle knew and relived our fascination with the pure crystalline world that engulfed us.
Back at the house, Grandma constructed a huge farm breakfast: recently laid eggs, thick bacon strips, and pancakes crisped all around with a crunchy crust which we smothered with homemade butter and sweet maple syrup. What a treat after our romp in the cold, wet snow!
After our outdoor clothes dried, we were off with our grandfather, dad and uncle to find just the right tree in the timber for our Christmas tree. It would hold its stately place in the living room.
Home again, while our uncle and dad situated the chosen tree in the living room, we prepared ornaments out of tin foil and clothes pins and scraps of material. Our dad was a pro stringing colored lights and with our ornaments, this sticky fir tree became our special tree for Christmas.
Soon our cousins arrived from town, delayed by the snowy roads they had to maneuver and increasing our concern, worry, and impatience. With whoops and hollers we welcomed them. Since we had to be out of the "Christmas room" to prepare for Santa's coming, I led my younger brother and cousins in originating a Christmas play complete with the carols we knew.
Yes, while we were so busy, Santa came, bringing new clothes for our dolls, new clothes to wear to Midnight Mass, and toy trucks and Tinkertoys for my brother and boy cousins.
Our meal was delightful with our cousins sharing our "kids’" table. I don't remember what we ate, only that it was special, prepared by my grandmother, mother and aunt. The women worked together, clad in their big aprons and chatting family gossip.
While we waited to go to Midnight Mass, we dozed in the glow and warmth of the Christmas room. I remember trudging through the snow and glow of colored lights and soon glad to be in the warmth of candles and huddled together in our heavy wool coats. I guess we slumbered through much of the service and were soon glad to be on our way back to the feather beds and full sleep. Our cousins got to stay overnight, so there were many giggles and tickles before we finally gave up.
It was one of the grandest Christmases ever!