As a kid, “White Christmas” was one of my favorite movies. How favorite? I would watch it in May, again in September, and you’d better believe I watched in at least one more time when the Christmas season was in full swing. It was that kind of favorite. I could sing and dance all the musical numbers, couldn’t get enough of the fun story line, and even as an elementary school student, I was jealous over the sweet 1950’s costumes. (Swingy, calf-length skirts, you are still my favorites.) But I just loved the final scene — spoiler alert: Do not continue reading if you don’t realize that “White Christmas” takes place at Christmastime, when it is, in fact, “white” with snow — when the Christmas Eve snowfall takes center stage, and the whole crowd assembled for the obligatory grand finale scene broke into a rendition of Irving Berlin’s title song. It gave me shivers.

But, to this day, I haven’t experienced an actual white Christmas. In Florida, half the time it’s more like “palm tree and flip-flops” Christmases; I have vivid memories of putting up my family’s tree while wearing a tank top and cutoffs. Not particularly “white,” and since all our Christmas lore revolves around chilly weather and semi-frozen water, it puts a bit of a damper on the season when those of us down here are just as likely to jump in the swimming pool as to bundle into a pea coat. Of the two Christmases I’ve spent with Danny’s family in Virginia, neither was truly white. One was slightly grayed over with frost, and the other was pock-marked with snow for a few days . . . until Christmas Eve itself, when all the snow sludge finally disappeared for good.

I’m determined to experience a white Christmas some year. That might mean hauling the whole family to Aspen at some point, but I’ll do what it takes to eventually live our lyrics the lyrics, “we’re riding in a wonderland of snow” and, “please have snow and mistletoe and presents under the tree.”

Someday. This year, we’ll be in Florida again. And that is great, too! Surrounded by my family, and soaking in all the joy of our church’s Christmas Eve service, wishing all our friends merry. We’ll just have to make-believe that we need the hot cider and the crackling fireplace and the warm sweaters. It will be a very green Christmas. A very merry, jolly, jingle-bell-y, green Christmas.
(No, this picture was not taken in Florida. Even our pine cones don’t look this Christmas-y!)

~ Laura