My relationship with winter has deteriorated drastically over the years – although it didn’t start off all that well either. Five years old I froze my hands because I lost my mittens. Winnipeg weather is not kind and the family spent three years there.
Next stop was Goose Bay, Labrador. Activities there revolved around winter. Neighbourhood kids dug tunnels in the snow. Easy to do when the drifts were over our heads. My father rescued me walking down the corridor between those drifts in the middle of the night – barefoot. My sister and I loved to watch the dog sled races – teams racing across the frozen bay. The northern lights were spectacular as I walked home from Brownies.
Ottawa wasn’t a lot different. A long, cold winter with lots of snow was common. Here I did try and enjoy activities in that wintery environment such as skating on the canal.
Needless to say, our two years in Tanzania didn’t include “winter”. My mother still decorated. The fake tree was a montage of drawings of pastel branches stuck on the wall. The community celebration was odd – dishes prepared and served on picnic tables. The roast goat didn’t happen. Someone stole it the night before. I suspect its ending wasn’t any kinder.
Winter in Edinburgh was just “cold”. Our school uniforms didn’t include panty hose and the heating in the classroom was a copper pipe across the front of the room. Since I was the most junior member of the dorm room I was appointed the task of lighting the heater first thing in the morning. Of course I then dove back into bed to warm up my feet. No real winter sports made up my life here but I did continue horseback riding. My pony was decidedly hairy.
Back in Ottawa I invested more in “enjoying” winter. I started figure skating lessons and skiing on the local hills. More horseback riding on our palomino, Drifter, and our little thoroughbred, Tony. Felt boots, toques, scarfs, parkas – very chic. I did some cross-country skiing.
When I moved to Guelph to finish my first degree I acquired a car. Not exactly a winter vehicle – 1964 MGB. It was an ongoing challenge to get it started.
The next few years revolved around work and law school in Toronto, walking distance. No winter activities. I tried to revive my skiing activity but just ended up somersaulting down the hill. Bruised and humiliated I haven’t downhill skied since.
Cross-country skiing didn’t last long either. My husband and I actually took the skiis, two dogs (vizslas – not exactly cold weather dogs) to Calgary. We brought two collie puppies home with us. The skiis ended up in the rafters in our garage in Aurora. They might still be there.
The vizslas liked to run in the snow. My champion obedience dog and I finished a miserable dog show (failed all the trials) by going to Ashbridge’s Bay. February but the sun was shining. Sheba (the vizsla) took after ducks on the frozen surface of the bay. She went through the ice. A piece of ice was under her chest so she was floating – and howling! I crawled out on a spit with a good Samaritan and we coaxed her over to us. We got her out to the applause of about 200 spectators just as the ladder firetruck arrived.
So here we are in London. A gorgeous vista across the golf course and Kains Woods. The dogs (Dobermans) and I enjoyed admiring the view from the sunroom. Any snow activity was brief – exercising the dog and a little retrieving.
My current enjoyment is similar only now with a poodle. He quite likes the snow. Our short jaunts in the drifts results in a trip to the grooming table to comb out the snowballs and dry him off. Tedious. Sends me back to the hand warmers and a coffee.
