G'morning.

Happy December! To start off the month, we have written winter scenes for your reading enjoyment. Grab a cup of hot chocolate and fuzzy, warm blanket, and cuddle up for some brisk winter writing prompts.

Dayne Gearner

Meagan opened the front door and discovered the snowfall. A pang of regret clenched her heart. Meagan went to the thermostat to turn up the heat, and to the kitchen to make a cup of hot chocolate. But the snowfall pulled her back. She leaned against the door jamb, and watched the soft flakes fall. Try as she might, she couldn't hear them.

Her boyfriend loved the snow. A wave of longing swept over her, because she knew that his senses would be on overload, but he lived far away, in the southern U.S. where snowfall wasn't that plentiful. Meagan sipped her hot chocolate, then put the cup down and raced to get her camera, so she could take a picture of the falling snow and send it to her man.

Muncy Chapman

Genela threw another log on the fire, and iridescent sparks spiraled overhead. She pulled her poncho tight against her shoulders, wondering for the hundredth time why she had ever agreed to chaperone a Girl Scout camping trip on Florida’s coldest night of the year. Supporting her aching back against a pine tree, she filled her lungs with the smoky air that still carried the lingering aroma of hot dogs and marshmallows. The silence of the starry night was broken only by covert whispers and giggles of little girls pretending to sleep, while a lonely owl hooted in the distance. Genela savored the last few drops of strong, boiled coffee before turning toward the pup tent that was to provide her with shelter for the night. She prayed it wouldn’t rain.

Meg Allison

Morning sunlight sparkled on the new snow in an almost blinding kaleidoscope of glittering white lights. Celeste breathed in the cold air that smell of ice and tangy wood smoke as a Christmas-red cardinal sang in a nearby pine. It would be another beautiful winter day, despite the cold that numbed her nose and stung her eyes until they watered. She couldn’t imagine a better season to fall in love.

JoAnn Carter

Sarah didn’t know what was more chilling-- the fact she was stranded, or the sub-zero temperatures threatening to freeze her fingers off. It only goes to figure her tin-can-of-a car decided to act up in the worst blizzard of the year. She reached numb hands out towards the heater and turned it on full blast. It made a funny noise as if that too was contemplating giving up.

Oh, if only she were in front of the toasty fireplace in a room filled with the age-old sent of burning pine instead of being alone who knows where. All of a sudden Sarah had an idea. Her fingers felt clumsy as she rummaged around in the glove box. Finally, she saw the treasure she sought. She held up a pack of menthol cough drops out dated by at least three years. As the cherry red lozenge touched her tongue she thought, It may be old, but perhaps it still has enough of that menthol sensation to make me at least feel warmer.

Laura Hamby

Lindsey cupped her hands around her cold nose and expelled a breath. It did help to warm a nose she was certain would rival Rudolph's. Around her, snow---fresh two days ago---glittered in the brittle December sunlight. The Christmas tree lot wasn't doing a booming business today, but she didn't mind all that much. She loved moving amongst the trees, smelling their piney aroma and imagining each tree decorated lavishly.

The wind picked up a bit, and Lindsey fancied she could smell snow on the chilling air. Digging her hands deep into the recessed of her coat pockets, her fingers brushed the soft cashmere-y material of her gloves. Gloves! What a novel idea! They slid on easily, despite her hands being numb. A cloud covered the sun. And from somewhere distant, she could hear Christmas carols playing on someone's radio. All was right with her world.

Deb Kinnard

Maeve took a deep breath of the breeze. It carried wood smoke on it, and a faint taste of snowfall to come. She sniffed. Just over the horizon, she judged, an early December storm grew out at sea. Underfoot, the frost-crisped leaves crunched, hard enough that she felt the impact through her soft leather boots. The sight of the cloud bank offshore bore a threat of chill discomfort, but also the promise of the coming Yuletide. She could almost taste the special Christ’s mass ale with its "lambs’ wool" froth of apples. And her other favorite dish—the boar’s head, borne into the hall on the shoulders of the servingmen dressed in their best. She smacked her lips. "Hurry, feast! Hurry!"

Margaret Callaghan

The blood red sun was low in the sky, throwing the silhouettes of the skaters into sharp focus. Spotting her sister gliding effortlessly around the rim of the frozen pond, Lorna scooped up a handful of powdery snow, squeezing out the air before aiming the ball at Millie’s retreating back.

‘Catch up with you later,’ Millie yelled, pirouetting and waving. ‘I’ve got a big surprise. You’ll see.’

Lorna smiled, returning the wave before heading for the glow of the brazier. Side stall proprietors were just putting the finishing touches to their colorful displays, and the aroma of freshly roasting chestnuts mingled with the smoke of the bonfire and the evocative smell of hotdogs and onions. All of a sudden feeling incredibly hungry, she opted for a scoop of chili con carne potato skins, gasping as the hot spice hit the back of her throat, bringing tears to her eyes. Moments later she found herself dazzled as the first of the fireworks exploded in the sky, creating a kaleidoscopic rain of lights, a cacophony of hoots and whizzes that all but drowned out the gasps of approval from the gathering crowd.

‘Lorna!’

Millie’s voice came from behind, and Lorna swung round, her smile of welcome freezing as she recognized the man beside her.

Josh Lockwood

The sound of boots crunching through hard-packed snow woke Ned Collins and he knew without asking it was the 9th Alabama moving out toward Murfreesboro. He shoved the itchy horse blanket away from his face, sat up in the red glow of the guttering fire, and glanced around at his tent mates.

He grimaced at the fetid odor of their unwashed bodies, very nearly as sour as the taste of burned beans still clinging to his mouth, and knew it was time to go. They’d never miss him in the upcoming battle. And God knew he wouldn’t miss them.

Cindy Green

Alicia approached the local sports arena, nuzzling into her warm, soft coat. She took another sip of her favorite chocolate-caramel coffee, relishing the delicious flavor as it slid down her throat. A light breeze carrying the smells of popcorn and hot dogs blew past her as she opened the door and entered. The deafening sounds of the crowds assailed her along with the blaring horn associated with the hockey game going on inside. The bleachers around the ice where filled with exuberant spectators. Stepping down the walkway, she finally made out the location of her best friend Liz sitting with her husband Mark. It was going to be a loud but exciting evening.

Loree Lough

She pressed her fingertips to the ice-frosted window and wished she could keep them this small forever. Outside, the laughter of her children, frolicking in the new-fallen snow, tickled her ears. Miranda inhaled the peat-sweet scent of firewood, smoldering in the pot-bellied stove, then took a sip of spicy herbal tea. Two short months, that’s all the doctors had given her. Her heart ached, but at least she’d have this one last Christmas with them.

Robin Bayne

"Caroline! Get out of bed and come downstairs!"

Hearing her mother yell from the kitchen below, Caroline smiled and stretched, enjoying the feel of warm quilting on her skin for a few more minutes. She reached up, touching the bay leaf pinned to her pillow, and smiled again. She had a beau!

The smell of sizzling bacon wafted up through the house, and Caroline rose and dressed in her warmest gown. It was a cold one today! Before she left her room, she threw one more glance toward her snow white pillow to make sure the bay leaf was still in place. For good luck, she plucked it off the pillow and gently gave it a lick, savoring the bitterness on her tongue. Finally she tucked it in her sleeve and went down to greet her family.

Gina Hartoog

The acid smell of burning pine needles hung in the air and the leafless trees cast ominous shadows on the bare ground. Jesse McRae pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders and shivered. Hours had past since Mike left and a storm was now building quickly from the south. It was only lunch time but a bank of slate grey clouds blocked out the sunlight making it seem much later.

The wind howled around her and Jesse shivered again. Where is Mike and why isn’t he back yet? she wondered. An eagle screamed overhead and Jesse looked up at the sky. She knew the signs. In two hours the snow would be thick on the ground. These mountains were unforgiving in the winter and deadly during a snow storm. Winter had tightened her icy grip. Jesse looked around for kindling and started a small fire. She had enough water for one cup of black coffee.

Judy Jarvie

Cherry felt the twigs snap beneath her clumpy boots and the satisfying crackle they sent echoing through the forest. Sharp as the taste of the winter greens that were heating in the oven for lunch. She looked forward to devouring those later and reveling in the fresh scent of their fresh mint garnish.

"I’ll find a great Christmas tree if it kills me," she vowed scanning every single spruce like a sniper.

Susan Atwood

Ava waded into the waist-high snow snowdrift, turned, and waved to her grandmother who watched from the kitchen window. There was no way the elderly woman could cross the snow-covered yard. Heavy leaden clouds filled the sky and the air smelled of snow—cold and clean. A gust of wind blew a spray of needle-sharp snow that stung her eyes and cheeks, and she ducked her head before continuing on her way to the row of pine trees her great-grandfather had planted as a windbreak. Ava fought her way to the nearest tree to hang cakes of suet and seed and a dozen sunflower heads that her grandmother had saved from last summer’s garden.

She heard the cardinal’s whatcheer-cheer before she saw him—bright red against the green of the evergreens. He eyed her for a moment before swooping down to a branch right above her head releasing a shower of soft snow. Ava chuckled as she shook off the snow. Slowly, she backed away from the tree, watching the bird hop down to one of the sunflowers, and bumped into a something big and solid. She was swung around into a bear hug, a warm mouth met hers in a knee-weakening kiss that tasted like cinnamon.

Denise Patrick

Joanna stood on wobbly legs, clutching the rough wood of the bench. Two teenagers raced by, laughing at each other, causing a frigid breeze to brush her already frozen nose. What in the world made her think she could ice skate? Oh, yeah. She could rollerblade, so ice skating ought to be a cinch, right? Wrong! She took a deep breath of frosty air and the fragrance of woodsmoke reached her. She only had to make it across the icy pond - she could do that, she hoped.

She pulled on her gloves and squinted up at the cloudless sky. Turning her concentration to the small group clustered around the fire on the other side, she licked her chapstick covered lips, tasting the light mint flavor, then took a deep breath. She stepped down onto the ice and held her breath while she stood still. So far, so good. Looking around to make sure no one was coming, she moved first one foot, then the other. It wasn't too bad after all. By the time she crossed the small area, she was moving faster than she wanted to be and realized she didn't know how to stop.