I have to be honest: I’m quite disappointed with you this year. Where are the wind chill factors of negative twenty, the thick blankets of white snow, the wet sidewalks? Where are the slippery roads, the bare trees coated in ice, the stinging sensation of cold air? Where are you, Winter? I mean, it's really cool to say that I'm so Canadian that I wear skirts, sans stockings, home from school because that's just how warm it was that afternoon when there were kids on the fields in shorts and t-shirts playing frisbee. But really, all I want is one big snowstorm before Spring arrives so that I might be able to go tobogganing and cross it off the list. Just think of how unhappy I'll be next year if it doesn't snow enough and I'm forced to slide down a grassy hill on a plastic mat.
I’m a Winter baby, born and bred in the cold weather. I live for snow days and hot chocolate. I want to go tobogganing and skiing and snowboarding. But there’s nothing, not even a light dusting of that magical white stuff on the floor. It’s bare, wet, muddy, gross.
Why wasn’t there snow on the ground the night I went to semi formal? If there had been snow, you can bet your icicles that I would have worn my combat boots. Instead, it was a balmy plus five degrees that night, so I decided to wear my killer three-and-a-half-inch heels. Like all the worst injuries, I’m not even sure how, but I managed to
twist sprain hurt my ankle. Thanks a lot,
And then I couldn't go snowboarding with the family (my dad still likes to pretend that there is snow, but I’m on to you, Winter) the next day. It was already a sad fact that there was no snow on the ground, but hey, I’ll settle for the fake stuff that the machines spew out on the ski hill if it means I can snowboard. But to twist my ankle as well? Winter, you haven’t been very good to me lately.
No matter, I forgive you, Winter, because since I had to stay home, I got to cook Lamp Chops, Steamed Ribboned Zucchini and Snow Peas, Orange Mushroom Sauce, and Wild Rice for dinner. It was so, so good, Winter, and we didn’t save any for you. But don’t worry, I’ll make you some hot chocolate next time you decide to grace us with your presence.
Hurry up, it’s almost Spring.