Rime, the Snowbow, and Christmas Lights at Ti Sheriff

There was something new this morning I'd not caught before. The sun through the frosted window sparkled with hints of colour almost there: reds, and blues, and green shards, specks. And I couldn't really tell if they were points of prism bright hues or washed out like the stars, red like Mars, and wiki tells me Rigel 's blue, as are "the brighter Pleiades".
      I judge myself that it didn't hold my attention very long except to suggest I should try to write… What's a blue star, I wondered, and by the time I was back from the web with Rigel, the colours were gone (and the song, and the song). Just white and yellows left.
      Course the lights were a little like the snowbow that I found a dog's years back. In the newish snow in the low sun, there's an arc (at, what? a hundred and thirty degrees? who knows) where the snow sparkles blue, crimson, green, orange, bright, bright specks, flecks. Oh, I was so proud to find the snowbow.
      And this minds me, some, of Ti Sheriff's Christmas lights.
      I was hitching through Wales in the mid seventies exploring the rural counter culture with the yen to join it. We were open souls, relatively, and I had an address where I could stay ("crash" we'd say). Ti Sheriff, the Sheriff's cottage, was in the Brecon Beacons halfway up a "mountain", way above the road. Angela had come there from Hackney with her biker beau, Mel, hair to his waist (if not his toes), and Angie's eleven year old, Nick. Nick was a restless child (this was before Attention Deficit, I guess) and Christmas in the new house with the new father was near driving Nick wild. So on Xmas eve Angie gave Nick a hash brownie. Nick fell into a reverie staring at the Christmas tree. Time for bed said mum eventually. Oh, said Nick, I never knew there were so many colours in a Christmas light.