Winter

I've always hated winter.

Every time I say that someone responds with: "Oh you just need to find a winter activity that you love," as if my issue with the season is to do with my own laziness & less about the freezing vortex around me.

I assure you, it's not.

I have tried it all-skiing, skating, hiking, tobogganing, snow shoeing, tubing. It is all torturous to me. I cringe when I think about snow slipping down the exposed skin of my neck when my scarf inevitably slips out of place. The soggy wool of socks and mittens sets my teeth on edge.

I resent having to budget extra time getting ready in the morning-the heavy coat, boots, & miasma of knitted items require more time to assemble than the summer months where I can throw on some shades & a pair of flip flops. Not to mention the extra energy it requires to slog through the snow with the extra bulky layers. Multiple times this year I have had to dig my car out wearing all of this, finding myself coated in a slick layer of sweat by the time I tuck & fold my layers into the driver's seat.

Freezing outside, sweltering inside.

I even dislike hot chocolate, finding the thick liquid always spurs rather than slakes my thirst. The sugar rush gives me an instant headache.

Oh, & don't forget about the dreaded mid-winter depression. Most of us get it. The isolation & lack of sunlight wears on the psyche.

So it makes sense that I live in the snow belt of southwestern Ontario, where snow drifts routinely reach past my knees & ice storms threaten us nearly half the year.

So. Much. Sense.

During the winter months I can usually be found inside with a book & a cup of tea. Bonus points if there is a fire going. But, I no longer have the luxury of ignoring the frigid landscape.

When we adopted our dog Ziggy nearly 2 years ago, we were overjoyed. Nervous, but excited. We were reeling from a cancer diagnosis with our current dog Cleo. We adopted Ziggy when we knew Cleo wasn't long for this world.

I remember looking at my spouse and saying: "Where am I going to put all of this love when she leaves?"

Ziggy came home 2 weeks later.

She is a tiny, spunky creature, with one ear that sticks up & one that flops down. I quickly realized she hates rain, despises cold unless she has a coat, & refuses to go outside if she catches an artic breeze ruffling her haunches.

She was perfect.

I expected her to despise snow like she did any other inclement weather & was already mentally stockpiling blankets for what I was sure would be epic cuddling sessions. I was wrong.

See? This is why you shouldn't assume things.

And so my dog has been teaching me to appreciate winter. She takes such pure joy running through snow so deep it nearly covers her. You cannot help but grin when she throws herself from drift to drift with wild abandon. Her zany, frantic zig zags that snake across the school yard of our neighborhood are intoxicating. Her love of winter is catching.

The past few weeks have snowed fairly steadily here. Last night the wind howled & tore through the tree outside our living room, the branches threatening to scratch the window, the breeze drifting in under the balcony door.

I really, really wanted to curl up with my book, but how could I deny those milk chocolate eyes pleading to go outside?

We bundled up & out we went.

You know what? It was kind of beautiful. The street lights were subdued, the neighborhood asleep. The wind was steady but to my back, my ears warm beneath a thick toque.

Ziggy snuffled along, thrusting her nose into any drift or pile that caught her attention & I stood listening to the trees.

The susurration of the bare branches clicked & groaned in an ancient language vaguely familiar to me. I looked ahead at the pristine snow & realized no one had come this way. I felt a small thrill at our fresh prints; mine even & dense, hers haphazard & exuberantly smeared. Unequivocally us. We were carving the path that others might follow, perhaps choosing to step in our indentations over carving their own.

It felt good to be the first, as if we alone held the secrets of this alien, frozen world.

I'm beginning to understand the winter allure. For some that is adrenaline soaked sports which can only be enjoyed in this short time frame, making the season special. Giving them something to look forward to in the interim months.

Perhaps the draw for me is the serene solitude that comes from a blanket of white, the harsh, barren beauty of a muffled landscape. The magic in dappled moonlight filtering through fluffy flakes.

I may not like winter sports, but I do have a winter loving dog to show me how much fun there is to be had in the joyous surrender of wild abandon.

I'll probably change my mind the next time I slip on black ice, curse it as I lay there catching my breath.

But maybe I can just take winter for what it is:

Beautiful, dark, cold, & utterly alluring.

A time to play & a time to thrive in the dark.

A time that challenges us to find the inherent beauty in barrenness.