Winter is incumen in

I grew up in the Pacific NW. We had long winters and short summers. As a result, most of my fond childhood memories cluster around July and August.

Historically, the school calendar was tied to the agricultural calendar. That’s back when most folks lived on farms.

In a sense that’s long been obsolete. And it’s somewhat less relevant to denizens of the sunbelt.

Naturally you have educators who lobby for year-round school. However, summer break is one of those cultural traditions which, while it may have long outlived its original premise, is still generally observed because so many people are so attached to it.

The carefree joys of summer are emblematic of childhood. Celebrated in novels by Mark Twain and Ray Bradbury.

In the Pacific NW, we lived and longed for summer. Ten months of overcast skies is a bit of a downer. Although we had short summers, we had long summer days. And we squeezed every precious drop out of every precious day.

But I do have a few fond memories of winter. Snow was fairly rare, but there were off years when the neighborhood boys would break out their dusty, rusty sled and toboggan down a long steep driveway.

We also had our share of windstorms. In a heavily wooded area with exposed power lines, this would lead to periodic power outages. At night we’d break out the kerosene lamps or sit by the fire.

When the power goes out, life suddenly reverts to a primitive pace. Time passes more slowly. You lose track of time. The clockwork rhythms of the modern home grind to a halt. Life becomes simple again. No music. No TV. You must unlock the attic of your imagination and go explore the world within.

But perhaps my fondest winter memories were of the candlelight service on Christmas Eve. For some reason, Christmas is the one Christian holiday which enjoys perennial and near-universal appeal.

I think Christmas is more important when you’re young, and Easter is more important when you’re old. Birth, death, and immortality.