I dreamed it would have been snowing…
My desire for the cold season to come actually hurts physically. I need that homely atmosphere, I want tea and hot chocolate while quiet slow tunes paint deep dark thoughts into my head. I want books in big armchairs.
I want everything outside to be covered in white so that it’s never really getting dark at night. Still I want niveous afternoons where heavy grey clouds and stormy wheather take every glimpse of sunlight away. And winter also means beautiful, bitterly cold Sonday morning walks, a sky as blue as pure ice above a scenery that hurts the eye with all it’s brightness and sparkling
And I want the snow to absorb and to turn down the sound of my footsteps and the cars in the streets and the wind in my hair when I walk upon fresh fallen snowflakes while twilight puts another day to sleep. Peaceful, nothing but my own breath to hear. That little cloud of condensed water. Cold red cheeks. Calm lonelyness, nature’s devotional death.
I can’t wait for these evenings; cookie baking and box wrapping drenched in yellow candle light. The smell of raw dough, melted butter, cinnamon and anticipation…
I want christmas decoration, candles on the christmas tree and the beautiful music of a church choir on Christmas Eve. I miss that special feeling of belonging and family I get while we unpack little goods, handmade clothes, delicious chocolate with almonds and caramel and tickets for a concert in september. I love the Christmas dinner and the work my mother puts into making delicious meet with orange sauce, vegetables with buttered breadcrumbs, potatoe wedges.
I want gorgeous winter coats and toffee apples and Christmas markets, I want tracery on frosted windows and knitted socks and whispered words in a clear winter night, I want oversized jumpers and sitting by the fireplace and all the other great and simple things which make that time of the year so absolutely wonderful!