Today we’re seeing the very first fat flakes of snow this winter, and c’mon, we live in CANADA! Despite being Canadian however, I don’t do winter. I don’t do cold weather, and I don’t do mounds of brown slushy much that has spewed itself over every walking service from my door to the car and back.
Don’t get me wrong, a big snowfall can be a wonderful thing, say, when you have no where to go, no pressing errands to do, and can curl up on the couch with a fluffy warm blanket, a cup of steamy tea in your favorite chipped cup, and the fireplace roaring (or in our case, being completely silent. For some reason gas fireplaces don’t do the roaring business. Unfortunate really.) while you watch tufts of white magic (that sounds like it might be a code word for a drug. If it is. Disregard reference) flutter silently from the sky. I think the silence in which these mass piles of snow fall are what makes it amazing. Let’s examine that thought shall we? (come, please? It’ll do my brain good), rain for instance gives us the whole relaxation package with it’s sleep inducing sound effects on the roof, but essentially as soon as it falls it disappears down the sewer gone from our lives (Usually. Unless you’re in our city this past summer, then it’s actually filling up your basement and calling your insurance broker letting them know it’s time put some new ‘clauses’ in your policy, however, that’s a whole ‘nother post), like it was never there and an hour later it might be completely dried up and in it’s place a rainbow.
Our fluffy friend snow on the other hand,is busy stacking itself up 3’ high and lasting for what must be no less than 10 years, make’s no sounds at all. Nothing. Maybe that’s part of the magic. When you were a child would a snow day have been as fabulous if you’d tossed and turned listening to the 200,000 tons of snow coming down all night? Wasn’t it the best to expect nothing other than another day of trudging through the snow to school and walking around with soaked jeans all day (because you were too cool to wear snow pants or appropriate foot wear in grade 8. Oh wait, was that just me? ) and waking up to white. And more white. Rubbing your eyes, giving yourself a little peppy tap in the face to wake up, and realize this isn’t an early morning delusion but that the entire street (block, town, etc…) was covered in thick blankets of white with more coming down and knowing you can snuggle back down in your duvet and doze back off?
That is the very best kind of snow. Unfortunately it usually has a life expectancy of 48 hours before it’s plowed, salted, sanded and shoveled into submission, turning that white magic into goopy brown gravel encrusted masses that pile up on the side walks, park lots, and most importantly, my kitchen floor.
And then it freezes. And the everytime you walk out the back door you manage to slip and land on your rear because you managed to walk across the only dime sized patch of ice not salted to death by Mr. Pretties. Oh. I guess that’s just me again. See what I’m telling you? Winter and I don’t get along. The world would be a better place if we woke up to those magical mornings covered snow, enjoyed the day off and then have Mother Natural give the snow a call, something like ‘Okay Snow Flakes, listen up, the town has to start living again, let’s move up and out, mission completed!’ And off it trots to the next unsuspecting town. No brown much an all the wonderfulness of a beautiful white day. See what I’m saying?
Sorry you had to listen to a weather forcast today, but I had to get it out there. And really, it’s related to this blog because if we weren’t recipients of ‘the cold north’ syndrome we’d have garage sales and antique markets ALL year. Yeah. Not just, say, 6 months of it. I try not to think about it because I’m really (REALLY) going through Aberfoyle withdrawal right now. If I want new treasures I have to hunt the thrift stores which all of a sudden have huge mark ups, and, I’ve gone back to work so with Mr. Pretties and I working opposite shifts, there isn’t much thrifting time. I know, right? *tear* or scavenge Kijiji, but it’s been slow going on here lately. I did however score a box of vintage dented Christmas balls for which I was STOKED (not so much stoked about the price. At $3 EACH. But I REALLY wanted some. And The LLP has already smashed one. I cried. Just saying. And yes I know I shouldn’t have put them on the tree at all knowing the LPs are loving redecorating it about 2 million times an hour). I found some 1920’s Christmas lights with fabric cords which I thought were absolutely adorable (not to be plugged in ofcourse… some how I don’t think burning the house down is the way to go this year…) but the seller wanted $40 per 8 light string. I’m not sure, but I’m fairly certain Mr. Pretties would lost his stuff if I told him I was buying 8 Christmas lights that couldn’t actually be lit for $40. It’s just a hunch…
How’re all, your holiday plans going out there? I can’t wait to see everyone’s Christmas House Tour photos in all the tours coming up, I know Rhoda at Southern Hospitality started one yesterday and the Nester at The Nesting Place is having on next week, they’re so much fun to look at, everyone has such great ideas on how to decorate outside the box!