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Jan. 7th, 2004
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The triumph of winter
Jan. 7th, 2004 10:19 pmDamn, but it is cold!
This, my friends, is how winter should be! We've been having steady and prolific snowfalls since late mid-December, and now, in January, we're having temperatures that are in the -20 to -30 degree Celsius range.
This is how winter in Canada is meant to be. I am a very, very happy camper.
No frikking ice storms, no mild weather, no rain, no fog, no hail, no overcast skies, none of that crap. Just beautiful crisp blue skies, and air so cold it makes the insides of your lungs crystallize when it hits.
Oh, and mountains and mountains of snow. Big piles of the stuff that you can fall backward into and make snow angels in and roll around in like a happy labrador retriever.
Tomorrow morning I'll wake up and there will be ice on my windows: an intricate latticework of crystals that will obscure my view of the street beyond and instead show me a world that I will see only this once. It will disappear soon enough, never to be re-created after the thaw. When I was young I used to hasten it's ephemeral life by pressing my fingers up against the glass, tracing my own patterns in the frost with a fingernail. Now, I leave well enough alone. I know that I'll regret it soon enough.
Okay, bed.
This, my friends, is how winter should be! We've been having steady and prolific snowfalls since late mid-December, and now, in January, we're having temperatures that are in the -20 to -30 degree Celsius range.
This is how winter in Canada is meant to be. I am a very, very happy camper.
No frikking ice storms, no mild weather, no rain, no fog, no hail, no overcast skies, none of that crap. Just beautiful crisp blue skies, and air so cold it makes the insides of your lungs crystallize when it hits.
Oh, and mountains and mountains of snow. Big piles of the stuff that you can fall backward into and make snow angels in and roll around in like a happy labrador retriever.
Tomorrow morning I'll wake up and there will be ice on my windows: an intricate latticework of crystals that will obscure my view of the street beyond and instead show me a world that I will see only this once. It will disappear soon enough, never to be re-created after the thaw. When I was young I used to hasten it's ephemeral life by pressing my fingers up against the glass, tracing my own patterns in the frost with a fingernail. Now, I leave well enough alone. I know that I'll regret it soon enough.
Okay, bed.