I don't pretend to be any kind of historian. These stories are just that. In my family back in West Virginia, I was a preacher's kid. Being brought up in a "churchie" atmosphere probably made me more aware of the "Christmas spirit" than any other kid. When your own father gets more excited about something than you do it almost gets out of hand. This gave me a whole different view of the Christmas season, the high point of Christian upbringing.
My parents were responsible for every facet of the church, from spiritual salvation to cranky old furnaces and plumbing. I was their maintenance tool for everything from chopping frozen ice from the kitchen steps to ringing the bell at the prescribed times. I also became a part of every Christmas event at the ground level so even now when I hear children struggling through Adeste something or other, I can picture those images in my heart.
I have been creating snowy Christmas scenes for maybe seventy years now, and I still get sentimental about just the thought of it. My dreaming mind flicks through the snowy memories like an old-fashioned slide show, with many smiles and a few tears. As I've created paintings of winter days gone by, my heart has been filled with just how a snowy memory can live within you for a lifetime. I like to think that these images and the spirit of their accompanying yarns will stir your own snowy Christmas memories.