|Posted on December 9, 2017 at 11:45 PM||comments (0)|
Winters on the prairies used to be much different when I was a child. They were crisp and cold, with lots of snow and blizzards. Blizzards! I literally can't remember the last time I experienced a real honest-to-goodness blizzard in the past couple of decades if not longer. I miss them. Having the wind howl and drive the snow against the windows while we stayed indoors and drank hot chocolate (sometimes by candle-light) because even if the power went out, we had a wood-stove. The drifts would cake themselves - sometimes 14 feet high - hard against fences and walls of houses so you had to dig your way through them to go anywhere the next day. One year, my Dad had to carve a tunnel from the back door to the alley while my Mom threw hot water on the sides and top to make the passageway safe to walk through. The town cleared alleys and streets, but not private property. We kids loved that tunnel!
There were always snow-men and they lasted the whole winter. Children were so bundled for school that we never felt the chill. The skating/hockey/curling rink was redolent with the scent of bad coffee, hot dogs, hamburgers and Wintergreen that kept one's extremities warmed and protected from the cold.
So far - since my last post - temperatures here have been 10 degrees over the average/norm. We had a good snowfall that is now melting off the roads and the edges of the roofs. Because it's too warm, viruses haven't frozen and people are sick. Even those who obediently got a flu shot are sick, because the current flu (a particularly virulent one) isn't one of the four contained in the shot.
Our house is just recovering from the grand-daddy of all colds. It's been almost three weeks (we're usually good after a week and a half) and the cough continues to hang on. I'm not complaining, simply informing!
They say the freezing temperatures will return - maybe next week-end. I can hardly wait!
My vain hope is that we could return to the winters of my childhood. Or even the winters of my children's childhoods. My grandchildren will never know the spectacular art that frost paints on the windows, or the ethereal beauty of hoar-frost on leaf-bare trees, or plodding through snow-banks half their height after a good winter storm. The reality is that climate change is a real thing. The sooner we accept that fact, the sooner we can all try harder to reduce our carbon footprint. Perhaps then, Mother Earth will allow us a real winter again.
Peace. Love. Harmony.
|Posted on September 20, 2017 at 1:20 AM||comments (0)|
Today it snowed where I live. It's only September, yet the Universe is reminding us that winter has begun its inexorable march. Strangely - I am never quite prepared for it!
It isn't about clearing out the garden and flower beds. The last harvests of the season are bitter-sweet even as we dry, freeze and process jewel-coloured jars for the winter. It isn't about warmer clothing or turning the heat back on, packing up the lawn furniture and storing the airy gazebo. Of course that all has to be done.
For me it's about having to give up morning coffee at my private bistro retreat - just outside my own front door - watching the landscape change from the burnished pinks of pre-dawn to the vibrant green of full sun on grass and leaf while I sip. The burgeoning life of spring and summer giving way to golds, rusts and ambers of autumn ever fail to inform me of the bitter cold to come.
I am not a winter person. I doubt I ever was. Sledding, skating, crunchy snow under my feet lose their lustre quickly for me. I love winter best through my window at night, under a full moon that washes the landscape with millions of diamond lights.
Winter does proffer gifts in spite of (or perhaps because of) the isolation it affords. Wondrous scent of fresh-baked bread; comfort soups and stews bubbling in huge pots; fruit crumbles and bread puddings hot from the oven, drizzled with maple syrup or cream - food worthy of a long hibernation.
So it is that this is also the ideal time for reflecting on what's been accomplished, relinquishing what will never be done, and planning for what still waits to be born. It's a time to rededicate myself to hopes, dreams and goals for the future when warmth returns to my world. Placing colourful candles in brass or crystal holders; burning frankincense, myrrh and other warming incenses; lighting a fire in the hearth can encourage me to reconnect to a deep spirituality.
The short days, long nights and enforced stillness afford all of us the same gifts!
Peace. Love. Harmony.