Day 69: Happy Solstice! The mistletoe and holly are laid, the candles are lit, and...wait, what's that stuff on my garage roof? Snow! If you had gathered up every bit in my yard, you might have been able to fill a teacup, but snow on Solstice is even better than a white Christmas. Although I'm not as fond of the stuff as I was when I was a child, I still love snow, with the proviso that it does not linger on the ground when I have places to go and people to see, and allows me to enjoy it from the snug warmth of my home. Snow is fine if I can go to it; if it comes to me, it should have the politeness to give fair warning and refrain from calling at an inconvenient time or overstaying its welcome. A dab on the Solstice is genteel; a foot, unless it comes when I have nothing better to do than admire it, can only be considered a vulgarity not to be borne.
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