From a long ago harbor on a far away shore, three splendid ships set sail. While at a bend in the road, the pathway narrows underfoot. Hemlocks and shining spruce trees move in close, linking their emerald arms overhead and scenting the wood with crystal winter. The moonlight is colder now. Having replaced its tarnished gold for sharpened silver, it illuminates a more enchanted landscape, one where snowy owls soar silently through icy air and alabaster stags raise frosted antlers to gaze in wonder at blanched and glowing stars. Wafting through ivory-tipped evergreen, gossamer glorias can barely be heard; bell-like whispers that become clearer with every muffled boot step along the pine needled pathway. The ice bear, august and all-knowing, walks alone. Forest oaks, each as unique as a fingerprint, no longer hide their true natures behind leafy raiment, but stand tall, proudly revealing their darkly graceful bone structures as they reach heavenward. The eloquence of December is everywhere. Through the mystery a cottage is just visible, its frost rimmed windowpanes painting squares of gold on the pale frozen ground.
Come inside, all are welcome. There is much to celebrate here.