The Branden Elm outside my window shivers. It has shivered a plenty this winter. So has the weeping birch, the Siberian larch, the burr oak, the many spruce trees, the willows around the pond, the poplars, the Buckeye. This winter, like every winter, the infamous Southern Alberta wind has tried to break them. So far they have been defiant but eventually it will break them, eventually the wind breaks everything, up to and including us.
Winter for most of us in Canada is harsh; it comes far too early and once we are in it’s grip, it never wants to let go. I love those commercials and ads where they try and portray us citizens of the Great White North as lovers of the cold and snow. Know what? Total Fucking Lies!!! Anyone who says they like this shit has obviously not lived here long enough. -35 is not fun, EVER! Granted, we don’t get that cold here every day, or even that often, but it happens enough. Then we have my personal nemesis, the Wind! Our abode, which we have affectionately named Hurricane Abbey, is situated in the foothills of the Southern Rockies. The views outside our windows are stunning, especially the sunsets. It’s gorgeous but… The winter winds here are ferocious! The Abbey in winter is truly extreme. If it’s not teeth chattering, bone ass cold, the wind is shaking the foundations. Wind speeds around here routinely hit 140, 150, 160 km/hr. When we see the forecast for the next week and realize the temperatures will be around the freezing mark (0 degrees Celsius), we know it’s coming. In most cases, these temperatures are followed by “Wind Warning in Effect.” 160 km/hr is 99 miles per hour, those are Category 2 Hurricane force winds. Just explain to me what the Hell is fun about that? On New Years Eve we planned on having a fire out in the yard but were not confident of pulling this off due to heavy winds. Then, for a brief moment, it stopped. Could there be a chance? I hustled out to the shed, fired up the John Deere tractor and headed down to the fire pit. It was of course drifted in. It took around an hour but I dug everything out, placed the heavy wooden Muskoka chairs around the fire ring and cleaned the snow off the firewood. I was ready. Then I heard it (you can always hear it before it hits you), the sound of a jet engine. I could see the big Douglas firs swaying just to the West of the house. It was over! The bastard was back. There will be no weenie roasting tonight. Within an hour, the chairs I had so carefully placed were pushed across the pad and piled in a grotesque heap, the wind’s way of showing it’s disdain for my evening plans. I personally found these actions vindictive and wholly unnecessary. The wind does not care though. The wind is a dink. I hate the wind!!!
When will it end? If we are lucky, two months from now. One never can tell. All attempts at negotiating with Wind’s boss, Old Man Winter, have so far ended in failure. “Spare us the bitter cold and the hurricane force winds” I said. We’d be happy with a few heavy snowfalls. There are few things more hauntingly beautiful than going for a walk while the snow gently cascades down. The only sound you hear is the swish swish of the powder below your boots. It’s cold, but not uncomfortably so and anyways, you can dress for this kind of chill. It’s the kind of winter we dream about, a fairytale. This dream happens just enough in these parts to keep one from going completely insane. Why Old Man Winter, will you not let us love you? Why do you have to be so difficult? Is it not enough that you bully your way into our lives every year, plunging us into darkness? Why can’t you give us a little taste of beautiful, to go along with all your ugliness? And while we are at it, stop killing my roses!
Ah well, it looks as though for now anyway, the Old Man isn’t listening. His dink cohort, The Wind, is pushing us around, shaking up my beloved trees, thumbing it’s nose at all my pleas. One benefit of all this darkness is one can hot tub naked. Oh, don’t get all horrified, you’d do it too if you lived out of town. The Wind, despicable scoundrel that it is, won’t even let me do that now. Hey Old Man Winter, hey Wind, two words for you – SUCK IT!
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