I cannot have been more than three or four years old when I saw a lighted, decorated, glorious Christmas tree for the first time. An Italian family lived next door to the house on Manning Street in Toronto where my parents rented the top flat of a house consisting of a kitchen, two bedrooms and a shared bathroom. Someone of the family invited me into the house. And there, sitting in the parlour, was a blazing wonder of a Christmas tree, and my eyes goggled in pleasure.

There too sat a grey-haired old woman plump in the comfort of a rocking chair, knitting. The colour of what she was knitting didn't appeal, it was a strange green-brown-grey colour I would years later recognize as a grim shade of colour reflecting the Canadian Armed Forces. She was knitting toques and scarves and mittens for Canadian soldiers.

It wasn't much later when I was introduced to more, many more visions of Christmas, when the great downtown department stores, Eaton's and Simpsons had their huge windows facing pedestrian sidewalks dressed with fantastic scenes of rural, snowy Christmas scenes, so beautiful they clasped the heart of a little girl, as they did those of anyone strolling past. Only many of those making their way through the wintry, snowy sidewalks stopped to linger beside the displays, led in many instances by the grasp of a child insisting they must.

That was the prelude; the up-close and very personal exposure came on entry to those giant shops when on specific floors reached by elevators streaming Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and other musical Christmas durables of the day, fairies and gnomes disported themselves in absolute wonders of Christmas fairylands, some handing out goodies to children, and long lines of eager children awaiting the opportunity to sit on Santa's lap.

After all those years, the impression of wonder, the fascination of seeing the bright lights, colour, music and joy associated with welcoming Christmas for yet another year has never dissipated. It's snowing now, the world outside the comfort of our home a landscape deep in snow, the atmosphere stippled with more falling. A calm and serenity has fallen over the land.

Handel's Christmas oratorio wafts its sweet and wistful tones throughout the house.