I have never lived anywhere that snowfall was a real possibility. I was in my twenties before I ever saw a cellar or basement. Sure. I have seen snow on holiday or in James Stewart movies, but this is the first town where I have lived with snow. Well, I have to say. The charm is gone. I am not too keen on the stuff anymore. The first years here the snow would fall at night in huge fluffy clumps. Several times each season; we would get this kind of snow. (That reminds me. Seasons are a new thing to me as well, but I am still in favour of those). In the morning, the snow fairies would sweep the stuff up and that would be it until the next snowfall. Don’t get me wrong. Few things are more mesmerizing than watching the snow make its clumsy way to the ground illuminated by the light of a street lamp. The way everyone acts like children when the snow has gathered enough to warrant a snowball or tiny snowman with twigs for arms is a joy to watch.
This season was different. This year saw the snow fairies on strike and the snow was left to accumulate over several days. At first it was the usual joy. I even took off work to make my first snowman taller than a poodle (a poodle is the official unit of measurement for snowmen. For those who are interested, the snowman just mentioned was seven poodles tall). After awhile, I started to notice something. It’s wet. It’s really cold. It gets everywhere. It’s slippery. You fall a lot. In short, it’s just a pain. literally and figuratively. By the end of the day, the streets were filled with ugly black slush. The cars sprayed this disgusting fluid at the feet of frowning pedestrians. It made the city miserable looking as well as its inhabitants. To add to it, this liquid misery hung about for days. Eventually, the snow melted. The nice thing about the snow is that it seemed to be the winter’s last gesture. A two fingered wave good-bye. The morning yawns and stretches of spring are now being felt. The days are getting longer and the morning sun is already becoming obnoxiously eager to peer into my windows. Soon, the drunks will have their path home lit by a dull midnight light. Ahh. Bless this city.