First, there’s the snow. It’s white. It’s also blue — and pink — and purple — and more, and it’s beautiful. (Okay, it’s lovely while it’s clean and pristine. By spring, not so much.)
Second is the quiet. I don’t know why winter is quiet. Maybe because people stay inside more. Maybe snow is a sound buffer. Maybe it’s my imagination. But I love to stand outside and listen to the silence.
And the cold. I live in northern Minnesota where it gets really cold and I’ve learned that there’s something about the cold that’s special. Different. To see what I mean, try this sometime. Some really cold evening, when the temperature is way below zero, bundle up warmly in all the winter outerwear you can find and step outside and you’ll feel that special something.
Most of all, though, winter is Christmas.
I pretty much ignore the commercial aspect of the holiday because my spendthrift nature and years of watching every penny prevent me from spending like the ads say I should though I do stuff myself with cookies. And candy. And fudge that is so good that it’s now a family business. And ham, of course, with all the trimmings.
But most of all winter means the candlelight service on Christmas Eve, complete with singing, a bell choir, and — of course — hundreds of candles. Like snow and cold, it’s lovely in a way that’s impossible to truly describe.