When I think of Christmas, I envision the rural rolling hills of Pennsylvania farmland, white with snow on lucky years. Family, good friends, good food, scarves and mittens and boots and warm jackets. Isn’t that the dream? I often forget that I spent Christmas away from home as a fifteen year old girl. Gram took me on a month-long tour of Australia to visit with my uncle and his family, who had moved there when I was little. For those that don’t know, December in Australia is dead in the middle of their summer. I’m talking 100+ degree heat and long…