Dear Winter

Dear Winter,

We need to talk. I realize you're busy with the snow production, as well as the freezing rain and blustery winds, but if you wouldn't mind taking a break for a moment? Thanks much.

You and I have always had a somewhat testy relationship, but I'd like to believe that I've learned to roll with most of what you throw at me. I can cope with getting wet. The cold doesn't bother me so much anymore, but I appreciate that you try to keep it above -20, which makes things a lot easier for me. Remembering to stay closer to the street than the buildings to avoid falling ice took awhile to set in, but I think I've got it now. I've learned to add at least 10 minutes to any outing so I can sit in the lobby and melt the snow off my tires before I go upstairs to my apartment and the fact that you consistently make it snow just around the day I have my housekeeping and ruin my clean floors even makes me laugh. Sometimes. I even like the blizzards, especially those with thunder and lightning - sitting inside a looking out on a world in turmoil is one of my favorite things to do. I know that last year, much to Rachel H’s disgust, I complained about there not being enough winter in our winter, if you will and I suspect you’re trying to make up for that. And to be honest, up to this week, I’ve sort of enjoyed it.



However, there're a few things that bugs the snot out of me. For instance, the kind of cold that dips below -25 is a bit much – yes, I know you’re sorry about that time you gave me frostbite in my ear, but when it still gets sensitive on cold days a decade later, I believe I am justified in harbouring a bit of resentment. Suck it up, sweetheart. Anyway, what I want to talk to you about today is excessive amounts of snow.

December, with its deep freeze cold and record-breaking snowfall was wonderful. January, with much of the same was also enjoyable, especially when it you threw in that five or so days of Chinook-like weather before you walloped us with yet another blizzard. Most of the time, I managed to be forewarned and get my grocery shopping done before things hit, so even the 30 cm you threw at us last Friday was terrific. I gave myself a snow day in which I did nothing but putter about and write and to be honest, I really enjoyed it. Then there were the masses of rain on Monday night, but we won't talk about that, because aside from being wet, it didn't interrupt my life. And yesterday, when they told us that there was going to be another 5-10 cm falling, I said 'again?' and laughed, because 10 cm is nothing. Apparently you saw that as a challenge, because when all was said and done, we got significantly more, for a total of 60 cm in six days, which, in case you've forgotten, means that in the last six days, I've been housebound for four and I'm sorry to say, it's getting to be a bit much. Yes, I know it's not your fault that when the humans attempt to remove the snow, it piles up in front of the curb cuts, rendering them impassable, but after several days of walking up and down the sidewalk, being able to see the Market where the food is, yet not able to get there and seeing only at barrier of white (except, by now it's grungy), it's hard to remember to blame something other then the snow. Which means, I'm sorry to say, blaming you.



It should be said that I very much appreciate that almost all the snow you've supplied us with this winter has been the kind that plumps up every branch and twig, creating a display of beauty so dazzling it takes my breath away. Wandering my neighbourhood and finding that thanks to your efforts, the middle of downtown looks like Narnia is a magical experience, even when my fingers are red and raw with cold. Giving me the opportunity to practice my winter photography is a favour that I have been very thankful for, but I'm pretty sure I'm done now. I realize that we have only reached the halfway point of winter and there's more to come, but please… would you mind familiarizing yourself with the concept of moderation?


You're killing me.


Love,
Lene

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