Marcus came on Tuesday to get the café lights ready for winter. The decorator wanted cedar garland along the cables. I liked the idea, provided it wouldn't bring the whole thing down on the boxwood in an ice storm.
He checked the runs, tugged on the cables and used a little meter. The supports could take the winter load, he said. We had the garland wired on properly and changed the bulbs to 2200 Kelvin. “Candle territory,” Marcus called it. Then he gestured at his face, as he had when we first discussed the lights. I knew what he meant this time.
Before packing the ladder, he asked whether I would like to see something he'd been planning for the yard. He calls it “December Standard.” The lights come on at dusk, but at six the runs dim in sequence from the garage toward the northeast corner. It takes six minutes and ends with two small fixtures lighting the Japanese maple from below.
“Snow on those branches,” he said. “For whoever's at the kitchen window.”
I sat down on the bluestone to look at it. It was cold, and I stayed there anyway. The maple has caused enough discussions about the satellite dish and the bar placement; this was a very nice reason to be talking about it.
I said yes. I've told Margot, who considers it her maple. Snow is forecast for Sunday, and I'd like to be in the kitchen at six.
— Ash