We had a nice fall season in Ontario. With temperatures between 5ºC and 15ºC, most Canadians agreed that the weather was “just amazing” while I reluctantly had to admit that I “wasn’t completely freezing yet”. Until last week, one of my neighbours was grilling steaks on a BBQ on his driveway and it was common to see people walking around in shorts and t-shirt.
Then, last Sunday, we had a dramatic change of weather—and scenery. The “extreme weather warning” issued by our messiah, The all-almighty Weather Network, was not a joke. Yet, until the night before, it felt surreal.
Snow. Fucking snow. And not just a cute little snow shower like the warning we had in October, but a 24-hour snowfall with frigid wind blowing from the Arctic.
And just like that, winter has arrived. The roads are icy, the sidewalks are slushy and the mailbox is frozen. By Canadian standards, it wasn’t a major dump of snow—15-20 cm at most. Yet, it’s the end of a season and the beginning of a new one.
“It’s great for the Christmas spirit!” I heard some people say. Oh sure, I get it, snow is picturesque. The problem is—well, my problem is—this is not a one-time thing. This snow isn’t going to melt, winter isn’t going anywhere. This is life for the next… oh, you know what, I’m not even going to count the months until spring.
I hate winter. Maybe I could appreciate it if I was sitting by a fireplace, sipping a mug of hot chocolate. But it’s hard to enjoy the slush, icy sidewalks, windy streets and unplowed sidewalks when you have to go places and do the usual daily chores.
I already found the days busy and tiring. With the sunset at 4:30 p.m. and the cold that drains all my energy, it feels like the game is set on hard mode.
Alright, thanks for reading my whiny rant. My gift to you: winter wonderland in pictures. You can see the complete set of fall in Ottawa on Flickr.