Does anybody enjoy winter? Really? Oh, I know in Canada we go on about hockey, skiing, ice skating, and snowmen, but after the age of ten, and after the first January freeze, who’s kidding whom? It goes against all things natural to live in a climate where for ten months of the year you have to wear coats, and for the other two, sweaters or light jackets. Do you see where I’m going with this?
By the end of February, I, for one, am over the winter blahs. I’ve progressed to deep depression. Endless snow-whitened landscapes, temperatures designed to freeze human flesh in less than a minute, with no seeming end in sight—how do we survive? Some of us Canadians turn into snowbirds: we migrate, like Canada Geese, to warmer climes, such as Arizona, for six months of the year.
Those of us left behind shrug into our down overcoats, heavy fur-lined boots, hats, mitts, and scarves, and brave the elements. We go out to work every morning in the dark, wait for buses in covered, but unheated, bus stops, stomping our feet to maintain circulation in limbs we can barely feel, and return home at five, in the dark once again. If we drive, we face icy roads, traffic jams, and drivers who have forgotten how to drive in winter. We make sure our cell phones are charged, our cars are stocked with shovels, blankets, candles, matches, and energy bars in case we break down, and we update our wills every week.
I suppose all this builds character, only…I’d much rather be building an add-on to my winter home in Arizona.