It’s December 9th 2016, Neal and I just had the most perfect wedding in court yard of a 1820’s Freeman’s cottage in Savannah, Georgia owned by our friends and neighbors Susan and Fred Johnson. Susan authored a fascinating book “Savannah’s Little Crooked Houses: If These walls Could Talk” which saved the very house she lived in. (Yes it anniversary time, 7 yrs)
After an equally wonderful photo shoot by Kenzie Ferguson, also friend and wedding photographer extraordinaire, we hopped into my red Nissan Versa and headed toward Asheville, NC for some honeymoon time!
Oddly enough hotel rentals in Asheville were through the roof so Neal and i opted for a cute little Bed and Breakfast in Weaverville, NC some 16 miles away. Well, I’m sure it was Fall when we left Savannah, Ga, 319 miles and 5hrs, 4 minutes earlier but it felt like full Winter had come when we arrived in Weaverville.
The next morning, to my surprise frost had covered the plants in the yard and the fountain had froze over.
That red Nissan Versa, yes frost found her too!
It looked like a tiny forest of ice crystals growing on the roof.
Who doesn’t love Christmas lights strung about the house, lighting up the night?
I certainly adore those Holiday lights, especially if they are rhythmically with beats and flashes!
Neal on the other hand, couldn’t quite take my flashing show creativity, so no blinking lights again this year.
I hope you enjoy this little poem I found.
Christmas Lights
They shine in spires and windows golden; Myriads of lights like curtains rise. In the festooned tree, the stars enfolden Reflect the softened beauty of the skies.
Homes are bedecked in all their glory, With twinkling lights above the arching door; The shadows in the distance hover As tree-decked hues sparkle the more.
The Christmas lights like gems are glowing, Encased in quaintest filigree, While softened winter winds are blowing The chimes of Christmas bells to me.
As as the bright lights shine and glisten And children sing, O lovely band, "Glory to God in the Highest", The caroling notes spread o'er the land.
And as we join the past and future, Our hearts in sweet remembrance rise, No deed can dim the glorious vision, For the sweet old story never dies.
