This is my third Christmas spent in Florida’s panhandle. Compared to a traditional Christmas in colder parts of the country, Christmas here doesn’t even come close. No snow, no roasting anything on an open fire (inside, that is), no snowmen, no sleigh bells, no frost bitten noses.
Santa arrives every year in Apalachicola on a shrimp boat. I’m serious. And although, the old fellow is about as out of place as a chandelier in an outhouse, he greets children who anxiously wait on the dock, excited to tell Ole Saint Nick what’s on their Christmas list.