Growing up I always admired the colorful trees along the cityscape of the highway. The damp crisp air of the wee hours in the morning. The crunchy frosted lawn. Jack Frost visits us every night. The smell of the morning fresh air is refreshing.
Christmas carols are playing at every shopping centre. Everything smells like cinnamon pine cones. There's nothing but hot apple cider on my mind.
After a long walk in the park, I liked curling up next to the crackling fire. As I sipped hot cocoa and awaited a delicious home cooked meal. I doze off to the warmth of the fireplace and the familiar sounds of my mother cooking.
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