My little town takes the holiday season to the extreme. You can't walk three feet down the street without getting tangled up in Christmas lights, or running into a plywood elf. In the daytime it's cheerful if not slightly kitschy, like one of those lifetime movies with the tambourine music in the background, but at night-
At night it's pretty beautiful. The sidewalks roll up and there's no one on the road, and you can drive down the street at 5mph and no one will bother you. The gazebos glitter like carousels with garlands and lights and bows, and the storefront displays come alive. Everything glows warm and yellow through the still, crisp air. The live oaks are all wrapped in lights, set afire in hues of off-white. The town Christmas tree is coated in baubles and shimmering rainbows, reflected in tinsel.
Whole buildings are drenched with swathes of gleaming color. The quaint architecture takes on the quality of life size gingerbread houses, or a miniature display.
It's not like other places, because it hardly ever rains here, and the dry roads are an inky black against the illuminated trees and buildings. The contrast is striking. The stars shine brightly in a dark sky, and breath puffs out in a steamy wisp.
From a distant hill, the whole town flickers like the flame of a candle, beautiful in it's quiet serenity.
Occasionally I enjoy living here.