Snow

Winter White

Snow

Here in Toronto, we are having our first major snowfall of the winter season.

When I lived on the Canadian prairies, we had snow by the end of October, and by Christmas, there were snow banks halfway up the street lamps along the city streets. Out west, snow is one of life's expectations, and people learn to live with shovelling one's way out of the house and driving over icy roads. Here, snow always seems to come as a surprise to people who live in Toronto.

During my first winter in Toronto, it didn't snow at all. There was plenty of rain, but none of the flaky white stuff to which I had spent a lifetime adapting. I thought I has moved to a tropical climate. My euphoria was short-lived.

The next winter brought a blanket of snow as deep as anything I had seen on the prairies, but here, there is no sense of harmony between people and winter. Snow is seen as an enemy of sorts, and the moment it appears, we set about trying to defend ourselves against Mother Nature's obvious attack on our way of life. It's a ritual that is as close to declaring war as Canadians have ever come.

In fact, one year, the snowfall was so bad that our mayor actually called in the army to assist in the battle against winter. Anyone who had lived in other parts of Canada got quite a chuckle out of that strategy, not because it was an obvious overreaction, but because our military really didn't seem to have anything better to do than help shuffle truckloads of snow south to Buffalo.

So, those who dreamed of a white Christmas missed having their dreams fulfilled by a couple of days, but this morning, they will wake up to the cold reality of below freezing temperatures and see the world covered with a flaky white blanket of snow.

Winter has arrived in Toronto, and suddenly everything about city life changes.

Snowploughs will work night and day, dump trucks will disperse salt everywhere, and everyone will grumble and moan while wondering when the next flight to Florida might be departing.

Winter coats, wool hats, earmuffs, mittens, and boots will be hauled out of the closet, and despite every precaution, people will still freeze their noses, cheeks, ears, and toes.

Kids, still high on Christmas sweets, will foolishly beg to go outside to play, and exasperated Moms and Dads will wrap them up as tight as pigs in a blanket in bulky, plastic snowsuits and thickly lined rubber boots, before sending them out into the mountains of snow in the backyard. There, instead of actually playing, most will be so constricted by their stiff, new winter apparel that they will simply fall into a snowdrift and be unable to right themselves again until someone has the good sense to hop, skip, and jump out the back door and pick them up before they disappear completely beneath a white oblivion.

Traffic will be the parody of the bumper car ride at summertime carnivals, and drivers will discover that a car on an icy road quickly develops a mind of its own and typically heads for the nearest guard rail along the freeway. Fenders will become benders, air bags will pop out of their dashboard hiding places, and insurance rates will soar.

As for me, well, I'll be wrapped up in my warm duvet and spending the day with a good book in bed. Before long, I'll probably drift off to sleep the storm away while dreaming of those long summer days by the pool.