If only it were colder. It’s Christmas eve day, and instead of snow, we’re getting doused with rain. As a Pennsylvanian, I am accustomed to this. Our winter temperatures jump above and below freezing all season. Since warm air holds more moisture than cold, our precipitation commonly arrives when the temperature is above 32 degrees, defeating our chances for the fluffy white crystals.
Here is a peaceful recording of “White Christmas” on YouTube, performed by the Boston Pops, to help you stay in mood despite the rain. Dream we may, but may we also accept whatever comes.
Which do you prefer: rain or snow?
I still recall the wonder of the first (to my knowledge) ice rain we had in Philadelphia. Outdoors, every thing, every where sparkled sealed by a coat of ice.
To be sure, the passageways were treacherous: handrails all but useless and roadways slippy-slides of frayed nerves in carny bumper cars. Dead-fall, even in this dense area of the city where I’ve lived and worked, yielded to gravity with explosive crashes.
Yet, visually, that ice rain created a fantasy landscape whether you looked up, down, sideways, at structures, at statues, or grass, or shrub, or tree.
We’ve had one or more since then. IMHO, however, none as spectacular or long-lasting as that first one.
As one who is no longer compelled to commute any where at any urgently defined time; as one who has the luxury of sitting in safety; and as one with the leisure to master the challenge of the cautious slip-slide from the calculus of mass, force of step, inclined-angle gravitation at moment of foot-strike, and momentum, I prefer the spectacular beauty of the world dressed in translucent sparkly ice rain.