Many of you know I’m passionate about Christmas. Some of you also know that I’m passionate about my story / rendition of Mrs. Claus that I started building last holiday season when I wrote her origin story.

We all have Hallmark Christmas movie images in our heads of an old-time holiday, bundled up shoppers in the snow smiling at each other and calling out greetings.

I’ve been rather quiet on here for a couple of months now. One of the biggest reasons has been that as those of you who have been around for a little while know, I am a huge aficionado of the Christmas season…

Last night I had a moment of clarity while I was standing next to my desk at work. It was one of those rare moments where you are truly able to step back from the fiddly details that make up so much of life and see the larger picture.

A white hart appeared in the streets of Bootle, a town north of Liverpool England, last Sunday. He walked down the paved streets, his hooves more accustomed to good dark earth and forest moss below them than black tar.