There's the winter wonderland, which has all of the high priced rickety rides that you might hope to find at any fair or exhibition - and all of them crammed snuggley into one small pocket of the city; right along side of the outdoor skating rink which they've been trying desperately to keep frozen in the above freezing temperatures of these winter days. Mostly what results is a mass of people gliding about a pond of almost-slush with their ankles all wobbley in rental skates and smiles spread across their faces.
There's the nativity what a golden retriever in it on the corner of West Princes St. Gardens, not far from where I rolled down the hill in my Santa suit. The life size nativity pieces were sculpted not immaculately but roughly, with a touch of the grit and earthiness that I'm sure must have accompanied the initial event of the incarnation.
And from my window, five or six stories off the deck, I can see across the way over the tops of chimneys and streets and terraces, into the windows of some sort of office building where they have Christmas trees on each level all lit up with different colors. Off to the left I can see the subtle but proud summit of Arthur's Seat; at night time the moon lingers above that and if I cast my gaze straight ahead it reaches to the belt across Orion's waist. And I suppose these last bits don't have much to do with Christmas, except that anything celestial and everything wonderful ought to remind us of the miracle behind this holiday.
May it be so with you.
May it be so with me.
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