New fallen snow covered the field. The sounds of passing cars on the road were muted in the still, peaceful air. Hills and valleys, in their blanket of snow, rolled gently in the distance, bathed in the soft light of a nearly full moon. A smell of burning pine wood and warm hearths teased my nostrils as I walked up the driveway to the house, snow crunching under my boots.
The house glowed with a warm misty glow, soft sounds of laughter and carols wafted sweetly through the air. A string of lights, red, green, blue, yellow, bright and cheerful, wound around the large window by the front door of the house. In the window was a tall, beautiful fir tree, freshly cut from the surrounding hills. Sparkling ornaments, fairy lights, garlands, and tinsel adorned each stout branch. At the top, a great star shone brightly, inviting me to enter this warm and welcoming house.
A dog barked in the moonlit distance as she walked up the narrow path to the front door. I reached out my hand to turn the large brass knob…
There was the screeching of brakes and the rattle of garbage cans, the men in their stained coveralls heaving the contents into the back of the garbage truck. Then the roar of the diesel engine as they made their way down the rain-soaked street to continue their daily early-morning rounds…
Once again, the world outside my San Francisco apartment abruptly intruded on my dream-induced inner reality. The crunch of snow under my boots and the dark smell of smoke in my nostrils was my dreamy version of Christmases of yesteryear…
I woke up on Christmas in San Francisco…
It was all a dream, of course. The passing of thirty or forty years tends to an idealized memory, in the style of Norman Rockwell, of the Christmas of my childhood. I am sure that even then the morning rounds of the garbage cans brought people out of the languid and happy dreams of Christmas and youth.
But as my sleepy brain wakes up to reality, I am reminded of fond memories from a more recent past, right here in the City.
It’s starting to look a lot like Christmas in San Francisco…
Winter in San Francisco is the only time of year when it is generally warmer in the city than in the outlying areas…
Mark Twain once observed that the coldest winter that ever happened was on a summer day in San Francisco. Summers are cool and winters are mild. The seasonal changes are a little more subtle here, but they are here…
Brilliant blue skies after a good winter storm, an inch or two of rain, as the fall afternoon sun casts dramatic shadows on neighborhood flats. The deep soundproofing mist of winter that seems to rise from the ground instead of the summer variety that rises from the ocean. Light dusting of snow on the hills surrounding San Francisco… Mt. Diablo, Mt. Hamilton, Mt. Tamalpais…
Bustling people on the street, dressed in their winter attire. Strange combinations of scarf, heavy jacket, gloves and shorts… sometimes even sandals. There tends to be confusion here if it is very hot or cold. Or both at the same time, which, curiously, happens in San Francisco. Getting dressed in December can be tricky, in fact, any month of the year, and “layers” are the mantra of the well-dressed shopper or party-goer. And there are people here who seem to have an aversion to long pants.
From the silly to the sublime, concerts and shows celebrate the Christmas spirit…
From “A Christmas Carol” at the American Conservatory Theatre. To “The Nutcracker Suite” performed by the San Francisco Ballet. To Handel’s “Messiah,” in magnificent Grace Cathedral atop Nob Hill. To the venerable dancing Christmas trees and sequined Santa Claus of “Beach Blanket Babylon,” the one-of-a-kind cabaret-style extravaganza that is a San Francisco landmark in its 30th year.
A walk to Union Square with all the high-end retailers vying for the best window… Eight floors of neon Christmas garlands, dozens of them, gracing Macy’s. Winter scenes at Tiffany’s recall my Christmas dream… Wegman Dogs, dogs in human bodies, cook Christmas dinner, play in snowball fights and dream sweet Christmas dreams in the windows of Saks Fifth Avenue.
At the corner of Post and Mason, two young women display their musical talents on vocals and harp, the sounds of Christmas music blending softly with the sound of car and bus horns…
A passing cable car slowly ascending Nob Hill, brightly lit reindeer on the roof merrily guiding its slow ascent as the cable car deftly plays Christmas carols on the bell…
The mix of humanity on the sidewalk, from wealthy shoppers to homeless street people. Pan-handlers offering their usual mix of “Street Sheets” for a dollar; guilt – “come on…it’s Christmas” – as they challenge your averted gaze; and humor – “can you give two thousand for lunch in Rome?” – and whoever smiles first gets the rest of the spiel…
From Union Square, an aimless stroll up Nob Hill among the handsome old brick apartment buildings with their white-gloved doorman manning the entrance, a tall, brightly lit Christmas tree in the lobby. To the stately Victorian houses of Russian Hill, with their mix of lights, garlands and trees decorating individual apartments…
Eggnog and rum at a lively North Beach pub, or a delicious meal at one of the many Italian restaurants, or perhaps a little jazz at Pearls, in the neighborhood made famous by the “beat” generation.
Yes indeed, San Francisco is full of sights, sounds, smells and stories…
At Christmas, this city that has always been a little quirky, a little colorful and even a little strange comes alive with the sights, sounds, smells and stories of the season…
St Francis style;
With a twist…..
