Old Man Winter & Me

Judging by the view from my window, winter has finally arrived in Toronto.  The snow is aggressive, as if it just realized the time and needs to hurry, if it wants to catch up. My relationship with winter is ambivalent.  I was born in December but always wanted a summer birthday party.  I love the muted monochrome of winter, with its whites and grays and the dull brown of dead trees but I loathe the cold.  I believe I was meant to live by the ocean, with delicate tiny beads of sweat laced over my bronzed skin under a blue sky.

But winter might win me over still.  I am fresh from a weekend full of wintery inspiration and awe.   It's been a long time since I was knee-deep in a wide field of snow that was clean and virginal.  The sound of my heavy boots cracking through the surface, plunging and crunching with each step, reminded me of walking to school as a kid during those long Edmonton winters.

I was young again, sometimes 5 but sometimes 15.  At night I missed my husband as if he was my first boyfriend.  I'd write him letters at night, lying tummy down on the bed.  Wondering what he was doing but guessing (accurately, as it turned out) that he was making the most of my absence by sleeping in the middle of ours.

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I'm working on a slideshow, with photos I took over the weekend.  It was an uplifting and magical experience, big big thanks to Chris and her lovely co-facilitators, Danette and Alex.  I'm endeavouring to do something different with the photos this time and it may take me a couple of days to sort it out.

But I have a task here that I am committed to.  So, while you wait ever so patiently for the full-er story, here are my daily photo offerings from this year's Winterglow.

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