We all slept around the Christmas tree, all seven of us bundled and and very much on top of each other. Our grown-up bodies more prone to the pain caused from the hard wood floor, a discomfort that as children, we'd hardly make mention of it in order for the opportunity to have the scent of the pine needles so close, and the magical glow of the strung-lights reflecting off the ornaments.
Though last night's sleep was an act done just to keep up with childhood tradition, there was something rewarding with waking up together to the snow falling.
With the father of the house singing, "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas" in a familiar dad-voice to wake us all up.
Pretzels, and other German pastries for breakfast.
Along with other small delights that keep embellishing and embellishing the overall scene.
This German village of Kandern houses sweet little residences with small windows and lace-crochet curtains.
It kills me to watch from my bedroom window the home across the creek; snow-covered tile roof, the chimney sputtering out puffs of smoke, and those windows with those curtains imitating patterns of snowflakes.
I wish everyone little moments of pure delight for the rest of the year.