Our tiny little town of Skaneateles sits at the top of a crystal clear, serene mirror of a lake.
The temperature just plummeted. Choppy, cerulean waves disrupted the mirror as the first blanket of snow quietly covered the village’s Victorian rooftops.
In recent years, our town has embraced a Christmas tradition by bringing to life Charles Dickens’, A Christmas Carol.
The day after Thanksgiving, actors appear. At first there were just a few, playing Bob Cratchit, Tiny Tim and Marley’s ghost.
Today, the town is literally brimming with the novel’s aloof tycoons in top hats and bonnets and plucky charcoal-smudged 'pick-pockets' in woolen knickers. Queen Victoria and a vintage Santa arrive. Tourists flock. They don capes and muffs of the period, which magically seems to transform them into characters. They adopt thick British accents and burst into spontaneous Christmas carols, drink cider and wassail and nibble roasted chestnuts offered by shops and restaurants. Horse drawn carriages clip clop through shouted snippets of Dickens’ prose.
Scrooge is the most illusive of all, delighting children when he pops up to declare, “BAH, HUMBUG!”
This tradition is a step back in time; a ripe alternative to fluorescent lit trudging for gifts!
At night, twinkling streets grow quiet as the candle lit restaurant windows fill with rosy cheeked customers steeped in the spirit of Christmas.