This is my home, it's where I live...

The snow had gone, but now it's come back.  Hopefully we will have a white Christmas after all!

American Thanksgiving

I know that American Thanksgiving was several weeks ago and that I am a wee bit late in posting this, but I thought I would anyways.

Matthew & I, Trisha & Corey, and Kathleen & David went over to Jennifer & Lonnie's flat to celebrate.  There was a ton of food, as always, including some dishes I had never had before like green bean casserole, pineapple casserole and gooey butter squares.  Here is our evening, as captured on film and video:

 

Me, Trisha, Corey, Kathleen, David, Jennifer, Lonnie

Trisha and her home made pumpkin pie

Our Smorgassboard

Chilling after the main event and trying to digest so that dessert would fit!

Our gracious hostess

A city transformed

Scotland is not a country that gets a lot of snow.  Edinburgh is not a city that is prepared to deal with it.  But that does not prevent snow coming and transforming a familiar landscape into one of outstanding beauty.  Matthew and I went out to tramp about and capture the look of our home with its mantle of snow.  Here are a few of my favourites:

The courtyard of New College, where Matthew studies.

Edinburgh Castle and the Mound

The Spire of St. Giles Cathedral

Rooftops as seen from Granny's Green Steps

Arthur's seat with it's crown of snow

Walking in a Winter Wonderland

Snow really is magical.  I think its magic lies in its beauty as it falls and its ability to make individuals feel empowered and the world seem a better place.  At least, that is how I felt as the flakes began to fall during our celebration of American Thanksgiving.  As they came down the world changed into a happier, better place.

I say this because all of a sudden that little flat was a flurry of activity.  Squealing females were bowling over their husbands in their rush to get to a window.  Cameras were grabbed.  "Oohs" and "Aaahs" were the vocabulary of the moment.  A night which had previously been declaimed as "bitterly cold" was suddenly a welcomed guest as window sashes were thrown open to let in the magical, sharp, pure air of a first snow.

Trisha and I were suddenly children as we donned our footwear and dashed down to the street to capture the snow on our tongues and on film.  We were not the only ones to be transported back to childhood by the snow. And you know what?  All the people on that street shared a common emotion: Happiness.  Jubilation, even, in some cases as the snow was gazed upon, held, shuffled through, or scooped up to aim at friends.

You see, the first snow does not bring thoughts of having to shovel, or of the dangers of ice and the annoyance of slush.  The first snow is enjoyable.  A celebration.

Walking home afterwards through that pure, perfect air with the silent snow around us was an untainted delight.