| New fallen snow blanketed the countryside. The | | | | People bustling down the street, dressed in their winter |
| sounds of passing cars along the road were muted in | | | | garb. Odd combinations of scarf, heavy down jacket, |
| the still, peaceful air. Hills and valleys, in their blanket of | | | | gloves - and shorts... sometimes even sandals. There |
| snow, rolled softly into the distance, bathed in the | | | | tends to be confusion here if it's really hot or cold. Or |
| mellow light of a nearly full moon. A woody smell of | | | | both at the same time, which, oddly enough, happens in |
| burning pine and warm hearths teased at my nostrils | | | | San Francisco. Dressing in December can be tricky- |
| as I turned up the lane toward the house, snow | | | | indeed, any month of the year - and "layers" is the |
| crunching beneath my boots. | | | | mantra of the well-dressed shopper or merry-maker. |
| The house shone with a warm hazy glow, gentle | | | | And there are people here that just seem to have an |
| sounds of laughter and Christmas carols hung sweetly | | | | aversion to long pants. |
| in the air. A string of lights - red, green, blue, yellow - | | | | From the silly to the sublime, concerts and shows |
| bright and happy, wound around the big picture | | | | celebrate the Christmas spirit... |
| window next to the front door of the house. In the | | | | From "A Christmas Carol" at the American |
| window stood a tall, handsome Spruce, freshly cut | | | | Conservatory Theater. To "The Nutcracker Suite" |
| from the surrounding hills. Bright shiny ornaments, | | | | performed by the San Francisco Ballet. To Handel's |
| colorful lights, garland, and tinsel adorned every sturdy | | | | "Messiah", at the magnificent Grace Cathedral atop |
| branch. At the very top, a big star blazed brightly, | | | | Nob Hill. To the venerable dancing Christmas Trees |
| beckoning me into this warm, cozy house. | | | | and Sequined Santa of "Beach Blanket Babylon", the |
| A dog barked in the moonlit distance as I walked up | | | | unique cabaret-style show that is a San Francisco |
| the narrow path to the front door. I reached out my | | | | landmark in its thirtieth year. |
| hand to turn the big brass doorknob... | | | | A walk down to Union Square with all the high-end |
| There was a squeal of brakes and the clatter of | | | | retailers competing for the best window display... Eight |
| garbage cans, the men in their stained coveralls | | | | stories of neon Christmas wreaths - dozens of them - |
| hoisted the contents into the back of the garbage | | | | adorning Macys. Winter scenes at Tiffany's |
| truck. Then the roar of the diesel engine as they | | | | reminiscent of my Christmas dream....Wegman Dogs - |
| moved up the rain-soaked street to continue their daily, | | | | dogs with human bodies - cook Christmas dinner, play |
| early-morning rounds... | | | | at snowball fights, and dream sweet dreams of |
| Once again, the world from outside my San Francisco | | | | Christmas in the windows at Saks Fifth Avenue. |
| flat intruded abruptly into my dream-induced inner | | | | At the corner of Post and Mason, two young women |
| reality. The crunching snow under my boots and the | | | | display their musical talents with voice and harp, the |
| dusky smell of smoke in my nostrils was my | | | | sounds of Christmas music mixing gently with the |
| dream-like version of Christmases long gone... | | | | sound of car horns and busses... |
| I awoke to Christmastime in San Francisco... | | | | A passing cable car slowly climbing Nob Hill, brightly-lit |
| It was all a dream of course. The passage of thirty or | | | | reindeer on the roof cheerfully guiding its sluggish |
| forty years tends toward an idealized, Norman | | | | ascent as the cableman skillfully rings out Christmas |
| Rockwell-like remembrance of my childhood | | | | carols with the bell... |
| Christmas. I'm sure that even then the early morning | | | | The mix of humanity on the sidewalk, from wealthy |
| rounds of garbagemen jolted people out of languid, | | | | shoppers to homeless street people. Pan-handlers |
| happy dreams of Christmas and youth. | | | | offering their usual mix of "Street Sheets" for a dollar; |
| But as my drowsy brain awakens to reality, I recall | | | | guilt - "come on... it's Christmas" - as they challenge |
| fond memories of a more recent past, right here in the | | | | your averted glance; and humor - "can you spare |
| City. | | | | two-thousand for lunch in Rome?" - and whoever |
| It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas in San | | | | smiles first gets the rest of the spiel... |
| Francisco... | | | | From Union Square, an aimless walk up Nob Hill among |
| Winter in San Francisco is the one time during the year | | | | the fine, old, brick apartment houses with their |
| that it is generally warmer in the City than in the | | | | white-gloved doorman attending the entrance, a tall |
| outlying areas... | | | | Christmas tree brightly lit in the lobby. On to the stately |
| Mark Twain once observed that the coldest winter he | | | | Victorians of Russian Hill, with their mix of lights and |
| ever spent was a summer day in San Francisco. The | | | | garland and trees decorating the individual flats... |
| summers are cool, and the winters are mild. The | | | | An eggnog and rum at a lively North Beach pub, or a |
| changing of the seasons are a bit more subtle here, | | | | delicious meal at one of the many fine Italian |
| but they are here... | | | | restaurants, or perhaps some jazz at Pearls, in the |
| The brilliant blue sky after a good winter storm - one | | | | neighborhood made famous by the "beat" generation. |
| or two inches of rain - as the late autumn afternoon | | | | Yes indeed, San Francisco is alive with sights and |
| sun casts dramatic shadows on the flats in the | | | | sounds and smells and stories... |
| neighborhood. The deep, sound-deadening fog of | | | | At Christmas, this city that has always been a little |
| winter that seems to come up from the ground | | | | quirky, a little colorful, and even a little strange, comes |
| instead of the summer variety that comes off the | | | | alive with the sights, sounds, smells, and stories of the |
| ocean. The light dusting of snow on the outlying hills | | | | season... |
| surrounding San Francisco... Mt. Diablo, Mt. Hamilton, Mt. | | | | San Francisco style; |
| Tamalpais... | | | | With a twist..... |