This is our last Christmas season on the east coast for awhile, as we prepare to head west in the summer. It was important to me that we spend it with family, and so much the better if it happened to be a white one–though I wasn’t counting on it.
And once again, despite the ineffable cloud of sadness that lingers over me at Christmas, it somehow turned into a most magical time.

It started upon our arrival at Whispering Waves cottages, in Ingomar (just outside Shelburne). We’d visited quite a few years ago and were looking for a quiet, pet-friendly getaway (3 dogs and a cat between us).
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The cottage was dressed for the season, with pine boughs upon the railings, and lights on the tree outside. Whispering Waves owners, Paul and Charlotte, had sent their elves inside as well:
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It was warm, and welcoming. There was a Christmas card for us, thanking us for coming back. A bottle of wine, and small bowl of grapes, chocolates and Nanaimo squares were on the table. In the fridge, cheese and pepperoni, cut up as a “treat”, the card said. I wandered around and took it all in, and I couldn’t help but be moved by the kindness, the thoughtfulness on display. And as we stood and looked out over the water, and saw the lobstermen headed back to their wharves very nearby, the snow began to fall.

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