Start Gathering Your Nuts, People.

The first day of winter is set for December 21st this year. So why does it feel like Old Man Winter has decided to come crash the party early, even if he hasn’t brought the S*** yet? Clean it up people, I’m talkin’ about the icy white stuff there.

Let’s face it, besides the green grass, there’s not much left that’s glamorous or beautiful about fall anymore. Now it’s time to wait for the white to come and monochrome our normally colourful and lush slice of the world for a few months.

It seems that we’re going from tank tops to turtle necks without so much as a three quarter sleeve sweater set in between (not that I own such a thing.). Attractive fall fashions will quickly become hidden under uncomely layers of wool, cotton, fleece and thermal, and the more the better. There will be no disguising a smart outfit underneath all the layers. This is about survival, friends.

When I moved to Canada in 2002 I was so charmed by the thought of an actual white winter that I couldn’t wait for those first fluffy flakes to fall. The irony of that year was that we had zero snow on Christmas day. My first white Christmas in Canada was no such thing.

When the snow came at last, I played, and played hard. I was so excited to be able to walk out my front door and across the lawn to slide down the hill into the field below. I snow angel-ed and played fetch-the-snowball with our dog, Chip. I revelled in the fresh, crisp snow and how alive the cold snap of the air made me feel. My first white winter in Canada was absolutely magical for me, even if my husband did shake his head and tell me often… “Just wait. The charm will wear off.”

“Never!” I’d cry with glee and pelt him with a snowball for trying to Grinchify my winter fun. That year, my party ended when I slid on my saucer down a hill, across an ice patch and into the barbed wire fence at the end of the pasture. Icy barbed wire in the bum does not define winter charm, but it does make for an interesting scar.

The following year as I played with my dog, I slipped on an snow-covered ice hill and went down on my left knee cap, cracking it. My dog, in all his excitement, managed to lift his leg and pee on me.

Winter fun now = pain and humiliation. Winter fun SO over.

The following year I slid the car off the road a couple of times while learning to manoeuvre the treacherous paths we call roads during frozen rain storms, blizzards or a combination of both at the same time. The only fun I found in that was using very creative words in my prayers when begging my car to stay on the road.

So now my knee hurts every winter, and I work from home out of pure fright and need for life preservation.

If you see me out during the months of the white-out – I’ll be the one in a helmet, elbow and knee protection, spiked shoes for grip and a big long coat to cover my skin so it won’t burn in the wind. Basically, I’ll be the freaky Sasquatch-looking thing until March. See you then, people.

Start gathering your nuts.

The Highway at 4 p.m. on a Lovely Winter’s Afternoon. . .

My friend Robin posted a picture of Shaver Lake in California during its winter splendour. I miss Shaver  . . .where you could leave the snow behind after playing for a while. . . here is what  some days in winter can be like in Lanark County, Ontario.

Bet it looks a little different from when some of you visited, right?

Everything Is Gettin' Furry

 

Getting those couple of inches of snow last week really put a grump in my step. My plumber stood on my porch and denied climate change as a mixture of snow and rain pelted him in the face. Peter had just secured a firewood order and we were beginning to think about the upcoming season. But when that snow flew – there was no joy. It was still October. SO not ready for it.

And I don’t care if it’s snowed in October before. Doesn’t make it right.

I don't care how pretty it was. Don’t care that it made me stop and look out my back door, wondering how the snow so perfectly coats all the branches of every tree in perfect icy, sparkling frosting.

Maybe my crankiness about the snow was all Cousin Amy’s fault. Amy sent me a text message with a picture of the thermometer in her parents' backyard, the same day we were being snowed upon. The temperature that day in Fresno, California? Seventy-eight degrees. At 7 o’clock at night.

The Facebook status of another friend in Sacramento? I’m tired of wearing shorts, bring on some rain already!

But then the snow melted, and I realized I don't mind winter all that much, because nature does some pretty cool stuff to get ready for the season.

Just about everything is gettin' furry. Driving down the roads of our Lanark County, all the horses are getting those thick patches of winter fur. They may look a little shaggy, but for animals that always have a such a sleek, glistening appearance, I rather like the stuffed-animal makeover of horses in the colder months.

And there on highway 7 – driving between Napoleon and Highway 29 in Carleton Place, are where the shaggy cows live. Anyone that’s ever been on Highway 7 more than once knows of which shaggy cows I speak. Of course, if you’re a farmer, you probably know the actual breed name of these animals. But to us simple-minded folk –they are beautiful, shaggy cows. And they’re getting shaggier.

My yard is totally furry with leaves. I know - they should be raked. But I believe in composting and I had my rake committed last fall for intent to do bodily injury.

The cat and dog aren't shedding quite as much. Wick, the cat, seems to have put on a pound of fur in a matter of one week, and it just makes her belly that much more irresistible as she struggles away from our loving hands. Cats. Sigh.

We're all getting our own layer of winter fur on, as well. Heavier coats, warm, furry-lined boots, gloves and hats. Fuzzy sweaters, socks and scarves are all starting to make an appearance.

Some women will shave less. And really, what's the big, hairy deal? Men grow beards during the hockey season, so let's just say that's what we - I mean, some women - will do as well! Besides, it's an extra layer of warmth, and after a short time, like your manly, oh-so-sexy facial hair, our feminine-soft-and-silky leg hair will feel the same.

And maybe, just maybe, you won't have to hear us - I mean, some women - whine as much about how cold we - er - they are.

Getting furry in the cold months is part of the natural order of things. So let’s all get soft and furry, and stay warm. Maybe then it won’t bother me – um, I mean other people so much when the s**w really hits.