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And So ‘IT’ Begins
It = SNOW. Ugh.
UGH!
This is the first time seeing those negative numbers and freaking flake symbols in months. They’re always inevitable, but I’ve held them at arm's length for as long as possible.
Autumn is over. Those wacky warm temps we have been enjoying the last month are done.
She’s here — and I loathe her.
Winter.
Yes, She’s pretty. Her flakes fall gently onto awaiting turf and, undisturbed, make bare foliage rather stunning and combine to create hills and banks for joyous frolicking.
She’s stealthfully silent in her destruction. As she burdens roads, they become sleek and dangerous. Her cumulative, undisturbed weight can buckle roofs, inhibit pathways and camouflage deeper threats. Ice.
The word, thought, and sight of snow is something I dread every winter. I wasn’t born with skiis on my feet or a penchant for the cold.
When Winter rears her head, I’m reminded I’m not a true Canadian. I’m an import who tolerates this weather because what else can I do?
Yes, I could move to warmer pastures within Canada, but a short trip down the 401 indicates Ontarians are not as prepared for a winter storm as we are. At least our Québec roads get ploughed and salted, the accumulation moved — eventually — and snow tyres are mandatory.
If it snows a centimetre in New Zealand, the place shuts down. Québecers can take a 35-centimetre dump without batting an eyelid. Well, a few swear words are exchanged as the commute is reduced to a snail ride, but winter is part and parcel of living in this neck of the woods.
Am I ever glad to be escaping ‘it’ for three weeks?!
