Christmas in Miniature

Christmas is easily the best holiday ever. I recently decided that if it weren't for Christmas I would move far, far away from the Northwest. The thing about our winters is that when sunny, the temperature hovers below freezing, yet when cloudy the temperature warms. Hence, we rarely end up with much snow, and even more tortuous is gazing out the window to a bright, sunny day only to be slammed with an icy chill once outside. I find this disharmony upsetting. I'd rather it be sunny and warm or even cloudy and cold. At least if snowing and overcast, I the below freezing temperatures feel justified, but sunny and freezing just doesn't compute. Christmas is my light of hope during this dreary season we call winter. Between holiday gatherings, an assortment of baked goods, and my favorite carols filling the house, I seem to have found a comfort that otherwise would be non existent.

This past weekend I visited the Seattle Center where the sights and sounds of Christmas were all around. Children danced to songs from the Nutcracker, cheery families braved the cold to ride the holiday carousel, and perhaps most favorited was the miniature winter wonderland on display.

I could have spent hours gazing dreamily at this fantasy land where an artist painted a frozen pond...

Families delivered Christmas cheer

Babes snuggled close on a stroll through the park

Skiing was plentiful

Children plotted snow ball fights

A cat was rescued from a tree

It was all quite beautiful with the picture perfect city streets and the homes decorated with colored lights and boughs of holly in the distance. Something about the simplicity of this winter wonderland tugged at my heart as I longed for the closeness of community and the gentleness of a small town.

That was until I looked a bit closer and noticed that perhaps this quaint town wasn't all it seemed to be.

There was a saloon after all, and if you look closely, you can't help but wonder if the lady splayed across the road perhaps had an egg nog too many.

Or on the outskirts of town there appeared to be a homeless camp and scruffy men gathered around a fire.

If this town was all that I imagined it to be, how come the homeless men were sleeping in a drafty tent in the woods, why couldn't someone open their home to them? Or the women passed out in the street, couldn't the lady standing and pointing at her offer a hand?

I guess all small towns aren't as perfect as they seem from the outside. Regardless, I couldn't help but want to miniaturize myself so that I could romp in the snow with the children, paint landscapes with the man at the lake, stroll through the lit park, or at the very least offer a hand to those in need.