The day was fair, and, after a bit of metropolitan congestion, the way was clear. The trees in the mountains of Pennsylvania were glazed in ice, set on white fire by the low angle of the late December sun. Further on, light snow flocked the evergreens and covered the ground in a patchy blanket. A little over halfway there the sun set, turning the sky orange and then crimson and then plum. The evening star shone in the west, and Christmas lights guided us ever north up and down hills, through forests, over rivers, and around bends until at last our station wagon rolled to a stop in the driveway of Heidi's parents' house.
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