By the time the boats eased into the Swinomish Channel Saturday nigth, dozens of people were lined up along the boardwalk, collars turned up, hands wrapped around warm cups, waiting like children who knew something magical was coming. Earlier in the month, the parade had been planned and then swept away by record-breaking rain and flooding — winter showing its teeth before softening its grin. But this night, winter behaved.

From the glow of waterfront restaurants, people watched through steamy windows, faces lit by reflections of red, green, and gold. Laughter drifted out each time a door opened, as if the town itself was humming a familiar tune. When Frosty appeared — round, cheerful and riding high atop a boat — there was a collective gasp, the kind that belongs to a song everyone somehow already knows.

The lights twinkled, the boats bobbed, and for a moment La Conner felt like that old story sung by Burl Ives: a little bit magical, a little bit mischievous and full of heart.