It is almost mid-December and as of only two days ago, we had only seen small flurries of snow. Yesterday afternoon, however, it flurried until the middle of the night, leaving behind a wet blanket of snow. I worked inside all day and was able to enjoy the beautiful white froth from the warmth.
Then it came to my realization that I had worn the world’s worst shoes to wear in the snow (or to wear for anything practical for that matter) and that there was really no way around getting my feet soaking wet & cold. When I left work at seven o’clock that evening, it was dark, still snowing, and I booked it to my loyal little blue car in the back parking lot. It was covered in roughly six inches of snow. Racing against frostbite in my poor little feet, I turned the car on to heat up, popped the trunk, and grabbed my handy “Snow Joe,” an all-in-one ice scraper and foam board that allows you to push the snow right off of your car. I was incredibly thankful this evening that my parents had given me this gift a few years back for Christmas.
Now, gloveless (because there was no time to look for my gloves in my bag), I began pushing mounds of snow off of my car, praying to a God I don’t believe in anymore that I would get home before my feet turned into gigantic ice cubes. They were already soaked and red as a cherry and they had just began to hurt. Once I had cleared the snow enough so that I could see easily out of the windshield, back window and side windows, I tossed the Snow Joe in my backseat, slammed the door, and jumped in the car. I turned the notch for the heat all the way up and blasted it on my frozen popsicle toes.
I slipped and slid nearly the entire way home. But despite my disdain for cold feet and black ice while driving, I very much enjoyed my ride home, glancing every which way at the beauty of the snow as it fell lightly now from the dark blue sky. It was in my car driving home that I decided I would be productive this evening. Which, to me, means I would go home and bake gingerbread cookies.
And that’s what I did.
There is nothing quite like tying on your favorite apron (yes, I have a favorite; it has light grey pin stripes and on the front it reads, “Food is Love” in beautiful calligraphy), turning on the oven, cranking up the Christmas tunes, and mixing a bowl of delicious-smelling gingerbread cookie dough.
I set the oven to 350.
“Alexa, play some Christmas music!”
A clanging of pots, pans and mixing bowls follows.
Dancing in my tiny kitchen while baking any kind of cookies is one of my absolute favorite things to do, but when it comes to Christmas cookies and Christmas music, a sweet holiday sensation takes over me and I am left feeling nothing but pure joy as I whisk one large egg into my cookie batter, as I sing along to “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.”
I hate to toot my own horn, but I really have to admit that I am becoming a baking professional. I have always enjoyed the craft of baking, cutting and decorating cookies, cupcakes and cakes of all sorts. I find it oddly therapeutic. The only part of baking that I really do not like is the cleaning up. But I think that might be true of everyone. Especially when I tend to use one too many bowls or cookie sheets. Regardless, it is something I find serenity in, and last night was no different.
After a night of successful baking, my littler gingerbread men came out very beautiful and very tasty. I packed everything up and went to bed under some toasty blankets.
This morning I woke up at 4:30am (WHY?!) and popped right out of bed to go and explore the outdoors. Camera and dog in tow, I wandered up and down the street in my big ol’ boots searching for something(s) to photograph. Because it was so early, no one was out, and there were barely any cars driving on the main road. It was peaceful and lovely and I genuinely felt as if I was walking in a Winter Wonderland.
I am so grateful to be able to live in this area, to be able to enjoy winter weather (for now!) and to be able to celebrate something as simple as snowfall with a batch of cookies and some holiday music.