Up in the north, Prince George, and the ground is ice as the snow falls. It looks dark and cold outside as in the inside the tree is up and the ornaments produced the myriad of coloured lights. Only a few days left and it will be Christmas.
Today was the day we drove east of town down Highway 16 in search of the Christmas tree. We had the permit in hand and turned off the main highway down the proverbial northern road. After a few minutes one was spotted at the side of the road and the saw was put to work. The sky was bright, the tree sawn and placed on the roof of the car and a quick hike into the woods to be in the middle of winter’s nature. The only sound was the occasional raven and disgruntled squirrel. What other sounds would one hear out here?
Each year it tends to change, something of the old is lost, something of the new is found. A sense of meaning is redefined. It is like a part of the circle is revisited once again. There is always the expectation of something different. The weather with it frigidity and whiteness defines Christmas this far north. It frames what the season is.
It is Christmas.