Winter. A change from what goes on the rest of the year. It’s cold. Bring out your winter woollies, or whatever keeps you warm. If you remember where you put them. I never put them away together, or in the same place.
Winter brings a freshness that can be too much. Temps of minus 10 above – or is it below? – takes getting used to. I sober up thinking about where my wife Rosanne lived, an eight-hour drive north in Timmins, Ontario where temperatures often reaches minus 40 degrees.
There is nothing as beautiful as waking up at home to a clear blue sky; to a bright sun poking above the trees. All this complimented by few inches (or centimeters) of the fresh snow having arrived during the night.
I remember wandering outside as a kid making snowballs to throw at anything that moved, at anything that didn’t. Like the small pine tree near the house. That the snow didn’t pack well being too soft and fluffy, didn’t matter. It was snow that hung around happily for months.
Author’s comment: Looking outside this morning, fresh snow had arrived overnight. It spreads out from our doorstep, meanders down a hill to disappear and climbs up the far hill and beyond.
