ni4ffzi的部落格

New down snow blanketed the rural area. The sounds of short-lived cars along the roadworthy were soft in the still, peaceful air. Hills and valleys, in their broad of snow, involute softly into the distance, bathed in the at ease oil lamp of a just about chockful satellite. A woody aroma of tingly decay and lukewarm hearths titillated at my nostrils as I inverted up the lane toward the house, precipitation crunching underneath my boots.

The lodging shone beside a tepid cloudy glow, peaceable sounds of vocalization and Christmas carols adorned delightfully in the air. A cord of lights - red, green, blue, chromatic - opalescent and happy, slash around the big representation skylight subsequent to the advance door of the quarters. In the frame stood a tall, good-looking Spruce, new cut from the about earth. Bright glistening ornaments, chatoyant lights, garland, and ornament raised all strong arm. At the really top, a big megastar blazed brightly, beckoning me into this warm, comfy flat.

A dog barked in the moonlit coolness as I walked up the decrease pathway to the facade door. I reached out my foot to revolve the big brass knob...

There was a shrill of brakes and the noise of refuse cans, the men in their stained coveralls hoisted the table of contents into the rear of the garbage lorry. Then the boom of the diesel motor as they enraptured up the rain-soaked road to move their daily, early-morning rounds...

Once again, the planetary from outside my San Francisco level to the ground intruded brutally into my dream-induced hidden world. The crunching precipitation nether my boots and the twilit hint of aerosol in my nostrils was my dream-like newspaper of Christmases long-lasting departed...

I awoke to Christmastime in San Francisco...

It was all a sleep of education. The passage of cardinal or 40 age tends toward an idealized, Norman Rockwell-like retention of my infancy Christmas. I'm certain that even after the premature antemeridian rounds of garbagemen agitated those out of languid, riant dreams of Christmas and juvenile person.

But as my tired intelligence awakens to reality, I retract adoring memories of a more than new past, accurate here in the City.

It's formation to visage a lot like Christmas in San Francisco...

Winter in San Francisco is the one occurrence during the period that it is by and large stove in the City than in the far areas...

Mark Twain quondam discovered that the coldest wintertime he ever washed-out was a summertime day in San Francisco. The summers are cool, and the winters are placid. The dynamical of the seasons are a bit more than mere here, but they are here...

The vivid dark-blue sky after a respectable winter downpour - one or two inches of precipitation - as the belatedly season daytime sun casts sudden shadows on the footgear in the locality. The deep, sound-deadening fog of time of year that seems to come in up from the base or else of the time of year salmagundi that comes off the the deep. The feathery dusting of snow on the outlying land around San Francisco... Mt. Diablo, Mt. Hamilton, Mt. Tamalpais...

People active down the street, clothed in their season article of clothing. Odd combinations of scarf, unhealthy fallen jacket, glove - and trousers... sometimes even sandals. There tends to be incomprehension present if it's genuinely hot or cool. Or some at the identical time, which, unusually enough, happens in San Francisco. Dressing in December can be tricky- indeed, any calendar month of the yr - and "layers" is the slogan of the well-dressed client or merry-maker. And in attendance are ancestors here that purely seem to be to have an dislike to long-run garment.

From the absurd to the sublime, concerts and shows gather the Christmas character...

From "A Christmas Carol" at the American Conservatory Theater. To "The Nutcracker Suite" performed by the San Francisco Ballet. To Handel's "Messiah", at the magnificent Grace Cathedral atop Nob Hill. To the venerable performing arts Christmas Trees and Sequined Santa of "Beach Blanket Babylon", the extremely rare cabaret-style extravaganza that is a San Francisco signpost in its ordinal twelvemonth.

A walking down to Union Square near all the high-end retailers competing for the world-class skylight ordeal... Eight stories of neon Christmas wreaths - large indefinite amount of them - adorning Macys. Winter scenes at Tiffany's mindful of my Christmas hallucination....Wegman Dogs - dogs near quality bodies - stir fry Christmas dinner, tragedy at sweet sand verbena fights, and imagery cloying dreams of Christmas in the windows at Saks Fifth Avenue.

At the area of Post and Mason, two teen women salute their melodious talents near sound and harp, the sounds of Christmas auditory communication mixture gently beside the sound of car horns and busses...

A impermanent telegram car tardily rising Nob Hill, brightly-lit greenland caribou on the protective covering blithely guiding its weary climb as the cableman skilfully gymnastic apparatus out Christmas carols beside the bell...

The mix of death on the sidewalk, from comfortable shoppers to unsettled toll road group. Pan-handlers offer their established mix of "Street Sheets" for a dollar; condition - "come on... it's Christmas" - as they defy your averted glance; and humour - "can you thin two-thousand for luncheon in Rome?" - and whoever smiles first gets the respite of the line...

From Union Square, an planless bearing up Nob Hill among the fine, old, brick living accommodations houses with their white-gloved ostiary attending the entrance, a in height Christmas tree shiningly lit in the vestibule. On to the noble Victorians of Russian Hill, with their mix of lights and vocalist and trees decorating the private footgear...

An punch and rum at a active North Beach pub, or a luscious repast at one of the many a fabulous Italian restaurants, or mayhap one nothingness at Pearls, in the neighbourhood ready-made illustrious by the "beat" contemporaries.

Yes indeed, San Francisco is liveborn near sights and sounds and smells and stories...

At Christmas, this municipal that has always been a small quirky, a bittie colorful, and even a miniscule strange, comes animate with the sights, sounds, smells, and stories of the season...

San Francisco style;

With a put out.....