Frosty no more

Putting up evergreens indoors, lighting candles, caroling, throwing a Yule log on the fire, sitting on Santa's lap serve as just a few traditions that people of the United States practice as a part of Christmas celebrations.
I can think of a few acts that I don't want to see become commonplace as a part of the winter celebrations — putting on sun block, mowing the lawn, turning up the old air conditioning.
Once, a couple years back, I recall it was only a week before families traditionally get together to exchange gifts and the thermometer had been tipping 70 degrees even in the mountains of Virginia.
That was one of the the lengthiest Indian summer I can remember. (Or is it Native American summer?)
I found myself in short sleeves barbecuing chicken on the back porch for dinner that year.
That doesn't seem seasonally appropriate.
So did I miss something? Like the news that the Earth is plummeting toward the sun?
That would have explain the freakishly warm temperatures, but not even former Veep Al Gore has gone there in my hearing.
After 2005 was named the hottest year in a century, people have to wonder: Is a green Christmas a trend that will continue in the future? In places that were formerly known as winter wonderlands?
If so, the word "anachronism" comes to mind.
All those references to "Frosty the Snowman" and "White Christmases," all those snow globe decorations and all those cards and wrapping papers showing winter scenes will in the future turn out not to reflect the real-world experience we have during the holiday season.
Palm trees will become more of a holiday icon than the whited out winter landscape.
It'll be like the line in the famous Christmas song about roasting chestnuts on an open fire, after the chestnut trees caught a disease and mostly died.
Sledding and skiing could become a thing of the past, too.
While still offered in stores now, sleds may become something we see only in museums.
No more icy forts, no more snow man building, no more frozen projectile fights.
Lots of people abhor winter. I always embraced it.
Some of the most fun I could have as a boy involved shooting down an icy hill at break-neck speeds, crashing and becoming lodged in a snowbank after schools unexpectedly closed due to the weather.
Now I can imagine a future in which children draw a blank whenever the concept of freezing precipitation comes up.
"Kids, when I was your age, rain that fell during the winter used to be called snow," we adults will have to explain. "It looked all small and white and starlike."
I hope not, but there may come a time when white Christmases will only occur in old movies and in our dreams.