Cleveland's forecast for a white Christmas has been fluctuating between admirable snowfall and rainy, close-but-not-quite-there weather. Monday prospects were grim; yesterday, December 25th was set back on track; today, low forties and rain are looking to herald the holiday. My city, while geographically a part of Northeast Ohio, doesn't usually benefit from lake-effect snows - winds tend to push southeast rather than due south (though Christmas of 1998 or 1999 was a white one exactly because of those latter winds aloft).
I've seen more green Christmases than white. Memory has always served as a nice pair of rose-colored glasses, especially for holidays, and so my recollection of those warmer years tends to exclude the lack of snow. One Christmas morning about eighteen or nineteen years ago where my sister and I bounded into my folks' bedroom, only to be told to peek out their front window. We went, and while I do remember looking down and seeing ground as green and dry as a March morning, I looked up and saw two lights hanging in the sky. One was green and one was red - probably jets moving in quickly on Cleveland Hopkins' Runway 10, but in that moment while they lazily sidled across the blackness, my sister and I just knew that we had caught sight of Santa's sleigh. (Where he was going, east no less, is beyond me. Remember, this is the generously overweight man who slips down millions of chimneys, not to mention flies by benefit of airborne cervidae. Magic, I tell you!)
I'm easy to please during this season; a combination of happy memories and holiday spirit have always filled in the empty (or green) spots. But not needing to imagine tufts of snow on the ground, blowing from house to house, as seen from inside, behind a twinkling Christmas tree - this is what I prefer. For next year's Christmas list, I should just go ahead and scratch that one in at the top.
The powers that be may oblige, too. Behind me, today's snows have begun. More's the better.