View From a Prairie Home

by Hege Hernfindahl, Columnist

As usual, I am starting the day on our heated porch with its many windows. I am sitting in my comfortable chair facing east, enjoying my coffee. Outside, it is dark. The days are short. It is December. But in the darkness, my sweet husband has provided us with lights, on trees and buildings, so the darkness doesn’t look so dark.

Unlike many people I know, I love snow. For the fun of skiing but also for the beauty of snow. For how it brightens the darkness, for how it covers up everything and makes it beautiful. But last year kind of cured me of the fervent wish I usually have at this time of the year for snowflakes drifting down, making nature put its holiday finery on. I would ache for that. I would long for it so fervently that I would get depressed when faced with a ten day forecast of no precipitation. But then, we had last year. Lots of snow. Piles of snow. And cold. It seemed to last forever. Some of the two- or three- year old pines we had planted were buried in snow all the way until April. And the roads! As we tried to get to town or even worse, to our children in southeast Minnesota and western Wisconsin, we often had to turn back, discouraged.

Before Christmas last year, we went early to our daughter’s in Kasson, because a huge, dangerous snowstorm was predicted. And it came! People were stranded all over. Planes were cancelled. All of it just before Christmas. We were going to drive the 13 miles to Rochester from Kasson to visit Esther, Ove and Nils; our first Christmas without Erland, but we couldn’t. The four lane highway was closed. Then, of course, came the cold.

So, when I am looking out of the window this morning, I am not missing the lack of snow. I often revel in the glorious sunrise, but today, we have fog. Dense fog. It covers everything, the deciduous trees have sheens of white, stretching their frozen branches against the grey sky. The conifers’ branches, heavy with fog-created frost, droop towards the frozen grass. The outside Christmas lights make crystals of the fog world sparkle.

As the morning slowly lightens, I look out over our beloved prairie, where the low-lying clouds of fog roll like ocean waves over the white grasses. I can barely see across the prairie to the tree line where the creek runs. I was there yesterday and found that it was not iced over yet. I also saw both geese and swans circling over the open water, not ready to go south yet.

Inside, I have put up many little artificial trees with plenty of tiny lights. I like to light them as I get up to the mornings. I have decorated some of them. There is a tiny angel tree and also a tiny tree with straw ornaments from Germany. We used to have one real Christmas tree that we would buy or cut ourselves. But since we seldom spend Christmas at home now, we bought a skinny artificial tree that reaches to the ceiling but can stand in a corner.

Last year, I opened up the box of Christmas ornaments. Many were White House ornaments bought by Erland when he worked for the President. After four days of crying, I decided to put the box away. Store it way into a closet in the attic. Then, I made Norwegian Christmas baskets out of gold and red paper. For me, Christmas is all about love. Love of the One who came into the world and was born in a stable. Love of friends and family. And love of God’s amazing, beautiful nature whether it is covered with snow or fog.