Peeping Mom

I encountered a house covered in snow on my walk tonight.

It rained all day today, but cleared up at dusk, just in time for me to go on a long walk.  It seems that I have discovered  a gift of motivation tied up with tinsel and a big red bow in the form of the festive holiday decorations dotting the neighborhood.  And it hasn’t  hurt that the weather has been unseasonably warm, either.

Definitely, getting outside and inhaling the fresh wintry air  is a stress buster –and the mental reprieve coupled with the physical exertion of walking  has been leading to more restful sleep. That makes me feel better which leads to well, you know, more desire to get out and walk.

I actually went to the gym today at my church, but I found out they lock the doors at noon. Hmmm. And it is closed on Sunday. It was still raining when I went, around 4 p.m., so I was lucky it stopped raining in time for my walk, which is admittedly, 90% perusal, and only 10% perambulation.

This is one of my favorite homes, the Santa Claus House.

Even more than the elaborate light displays, I am fascinated, nay drawn to the brightly lit interiors of the homes that I walk past. Only I do not always walk past them. I stare inside, peering past the open drapes at the cozy tableaux that the families  within evidently wish to share with strangers like me.

Things are lovingly placed at Christmas.  The paper mache carolers go there. The tree goes here. That ornament must be on that branch, beside the star, or is it always an angel? I love seeing these displays of love and remembering, even though I do not know these people, they are sharing their vision of warmth, and the pleasure that they take in the own holiday re-creations are meaningful to me.

My favorite window scene was one that I could not get close enough to take a photo of without disturbing the occupant within–a large, adolescent black lab. He  was seated on what was obviously “his chair” in front of the window gazing outside, wondering I suppose why the squirrels went to bed earlier these short days, and why the lady outside was staring at him. Might she want to play, or rub his belly?

(Surely there is no animal that expresses a more benign grace than a Labrador retriever. Should I ever have a biopsy, I want the doc to walk into the room and tell me, “Good news, we just got the results back, and the growth was a Labrador retriever.” That will mean it is benign beyond doubt.)

Beyond the lab,  I could see an old fashioned Christmas tree with tiny crayola colored lights, and to the side, a fireplace  that was draped with softly twinkling white lights. Above it,  there were Christmas angels arranged on the mantle.

It was so beautiful. I wanted to cry snowflakes.

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