On Christmas Eve, my mother, father, sister, and I each open one gift, an ornament, and hang it on the tree. My parents give me a snowflake and give my sister a Christmas cross. And we give both my mother and father special bells to add to their collections. When I turned 12 and Towle’s “Twelve Days of Christmas” ornament cycle ended, I chose to start a collection of one of nature’s most delicate, loveliest masterpieces: the snowflake. Growing up in the South we rarely experienced a “white Christmas.” Snowflakes have always captivated me because of how much they reflect people, perfectly imperfect, each one unique and beautiful in their own way.
