By EmilyRose Nulty
A season alive with small moments and gentle excitement.
The darker mornings and early nights sweep over the country like a quiet tide, yet the season’s change carries its own beauty. The cold, crisp air met by the glowing winter sun, the low hum of cars drifting along streets as windscreens are cleared of mist. Faces kissed by the bitter cold, cheeks and noses flushed with rosy warmth. Houses are lighting fires to stay cosy, that old chimney smell lingering in the air, reminding us, comforting us.
The unspoken excitement leading up to the holidays is quite magical, the council putting up the decorations, waiting to be turned on at the grand ceremony. The streets murmur, the first hints appear in shop windows, bright, multi-colour light displays twinkling gently in your eyes, children give hints to the gifts they would like, with giggles in between words. Parents laughing in conversation, children tugging at their winter coat.
Markets occur often, people set up their stalls meticulously, smells from vendors fill our senses, an older couple buy their first proper hot chocolate of the season. The busker playing acoustic versions of Christmas songs. Conversations are buzzing, laughter shared and heard from across the market. Passersbyers stop to take photographs of the warm, dimly lit yellow lights, illuminating the space. Shopkeepers wave at familiar faces while serving newcomers.
New-felled Christmas trees are lined up, more are in the trailers. That scent of evergreen trees cuts through any other sense in that moment, the golden coloured sap still slowly seeping out of the freshly cut stumps. The houses around showcase glimpses of themselves during this time, a wreath on the front door, a beloved snowman figure in the window, dressed in a red scarf, decorated with coal for a nose, buttons, and a hat. Projectors beam cheerful messages, covering the layer of frost over the gable end. The thick, grey smoke adds to the gradient of the sky.
Dinners being cooked to keep the soul warm, hints of spiced orange and cinnamon linger. The houses radiate a special time for connection. The holidays can be challenging; grief often resurfaces during this time.
A robin hopping along a frosted windowsill reminds us of those absent, sprinkling their presence quietly. I think of them quietly, a familiar smile reflecting off the window. Bells ringing in the distance, the robin pauses. Just a little reminder, they’re around.
Dogs in warm, wooly, colourful jumpers to match their owners, wagging tails, pulling leads, owners trying to adjust their hats and scarves, kind, fleeting smiles exchanged. The cold evening air, mixed with slight frost, is welcomed; it glistens ever so gently, making every element radiate.
The postman, still in his shorts, makes his way through his route, locals expecting him on time. It’s a busy season of collecting sacred (some forced) Christmas cards as part of the tradition. Others deliver gifts discreetly, so no surprise is ruined, hidden by the bin or behind the car for extra precaution. As packages are collected and delivered, people give him a good wave of appreciation or stop for a chat.
As the evening draws in, it can feel like deja vu, the grass covered by the frost, the street lights stand dim compared to the town, streets pulsing with life, the energy around, indescribable. The gentle reminders take that as a time to pause. December, a time for reflection on the year, a time that is pure busyness, however peaceful too.
December is alive, so are we, gently creating magic for us all.