A p r o n h e a d -- Lilly Green
The dusting of snow on the windowsills shifted back and forth with soft winter breathings. There was no storm in the air as a pale gauzy sun descended behind the horizon, only a chill skimming fields laid out ivory with winter’s wrinkles. Shortbread was baked and stored. Christmas cake plump with dried fruits was wrapped tightly in foil and packed away in the unheated summer-kitchen, taking advantage of nature’s refrigeration. Festive cards from friends and family framed the doorway to the parlor and hung on strings drooped across walls. The only thing left was to decorate a tree. After supper, Daddy bundled up and set off with his ax into the bush to find the perfect pine.
Boxes of ornaments and tangled strings of big knobby lights stretched across the floor as wide-eyed youngsters waited impatiently. At the sound of stomping boots outside, we flew to the inside kitchen door…
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