It happened once a year. Bringing the tree lights from the closet, where they rested. The icicles, which my mother called “rain”. Bright, hard candy, red, green, lilac, multi-striped. A rare wintergreen mint, a color as pleasant as its taste.
Other years the road to Christmas was not as easy, having to endure floods, cold days and long nights. Like the Christmas at Ed's Richfield, they were all memorable.