Saturday, February 21, 2015

Seven Hours of Northern Memories

In five years living in the Mid-Atlantic zone, I have seen only bits & pieces of winter. (The infamous Snowmageddon was the year prior to our whimsy move.)  And, although come mid-April, I was always sick of subzero readings on my thermometer and snow banks as tall as homes, I truly have missed the refreshing chill swelling with each breath and the romps through the hard-packed snow dusted with perfect pow. 

But this winter, despite falling short of true blizzards and subzero (before the wind chill) mid-days,  has been a bit more convincing.  Today, the people (who amidst their typical over-rushed, slightly fatalistic attitudes, have found  every reason to verbalize sincere loathing for winter since before it began) were privy to at least seven non-stop hours of winter, minus the below grade freeze. 
I've always been so quick to passionately say that Autumn was always my favourite of the seasons, until the brilliance of Spring in the flowering trees here swayed me.  But, my absolute joy in playing and traipsing through the snow, instructing, digging out, and shoving the dozens of people stuck on our Main Street, and overall delight in the icy crystals makes me wonder is Father Winter my true love? (Until, of course, March when  he needs to get a'packin')

What better way to end the day than curling up with the last few chapters and a mug of tea?! 
*Le Sigh for Joyful Saturdays*

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