Well, it's back everyone. The return of winter as we know it.
Oh I know - it has technically, according to the calendar, been "winter" for nine days now, but up here, where I live, it really hasn't.
Up here, in the Great White North (resuming my moniker now that it's here and I can SAY IT TO ITS FACE!) winter normally arrives like an unwanted relative somewhere around the beginning of November. She kicks off her shoes with no regard to keeping them on the actual rug and throws her suitcase in your direction expecting you to serve as her butler and take it to her room.
And then she stays. Til around March.
And you get mighty sick of her pain-in-the-butt-overstaying-her-welcome self.
But this year, no - this year while the rest of you were dealing with Coronavirus effects AND winter - we were blessedly just dealing with Covid because the latter hadn't shown up in her ritually sadistic way. She was beautifully and wonderfully absent from the equation leaving us filled with hope and temps that hovered in the 40 degree range!
Roads were clear for the driving (granted most of us weren't really going very many places, but they were clear if we wanted to!) Our hallways and entryways and mudrooms were free of the usual gear piles, mucky residues and the ever-present smell that sweaty winter clothes brings into your domain.
But now - she's back.
And I know that her arrival is supposed to be a blessing of sorts. A snowy winter is moisture for the ground and therefore our farmers, their fields and the food supply chain. But like a menstrual cycle that returns after you have a baby - I just can't muster up the yeehaw for it's arrival. I mean, technically - as a female, you're supposed to be glad when good ol' Aunt Flow returns because it means your body and your hormones are returning to normal. It signifies health. There are (begrudgingly) supposed to be good things that arrive with the post-partum period but damn if it wasn't just lovely going along each day without it!
In closing, good morning to you all. No, I didn't really have an actual point to this ranting and raving and yes, I did, just compare an entire season to a woman's menstrual cycle. But I'm not wrong. If you've ever tried to commiserate about your immense dislike of winter with someone who enjoys snowmobiling - you know exactly what it's like to be a girl, trying to have girl talk about cramps all while stuffing chocolate in your face only to have one of the girls in the group say, "oh sorry, I don't know where you're coming from, I actually don't get periods because I'm so thin. And I really want to gain weight... I just can't."
Aw honey - you could if I sat on you.
Yes indeed-y. The comparison of one of the four seasons of nature to one of the twelve seasons of female.
And did it publicly. On a blog. For anyone to read.
All before 8am.
Because that's the train my warped brain is on and I'm here to take as many people as possible along for the ride.
Enjoy your less-than-perfect roads, everyone.
I know I won't.