Igloos And Dog Sleds

Sorry, folks, Blogger was down for the last two days. Some comments have been lost (although they might still come back), and we haven't been able to post today's article till now (which makes it even more redundant :) ––you'll see!)

Barbara: You know the cliché where we Canadians drive around in dog sleds, live in igloos, and it’s always -25 out? Well, this year, here in Toronto, it feels like we’re living the cliché. I’m half-tempted to gather the dogs and slap up the igloo!! Okay, it’s not -25, but it is the kind of spring cool that just seeps into your bones and never shakes itself out.

I’ve been waiting to put pansies in my garden for the last three weeks. Pansies––the hardy cold-weather flowers. Well, too cold for them. I’ve been staring dolefully out the window, bike still hanging from its hook in the garage, wondering where the heck the sun is and why the hell the rain is pouring so relentlessly.

I know Deb and I have bantered about weather in the past (she’s for it, I’m against), but I just feel like the worst kind of pouty brat these days. I need my outdoors! I need sun! I need to feel the warmth of it on my skin!

And PS: the vision of me spinning, arms outstretched, face tipped up to the rain is not my idea of child-like bliss. At all.

My front porch on, yes, a rainy cold day...

Most years, I spend the entire spring out on my front porch. My porch has got its own little eco-system up there. The afternoon sun streams under the overhanging roof and warms up the brick and furniture pillows around me. Or if it’s raining but sufficiently warm (which is often here in Canada, I swear!!), I even have an electrical outlet to charge my computer. But this spring, even wrapped in blankets and fleeces, I’m never warm enough. I am still as cooped up as I was all winter.

Help! Does anyone have a sure-fire fix for what threatens to become SFAD (seasonal fucking affective disorder)??? I mean, the people around me are seriously at risk.

Barbara’s PS: Okay, confession time: so I wrote this last week when we were in the throws of ceaseless cold weather, but then sidelined posting it as I was feeling all political and stuff and wanted to write about that. Now, this week, I am sidelined by a whopper of a cold—the kind that makes even looking at the computer screen an onerous chore (sore eyes, congested chest, midnight coughing fits wherein I banish myself to the basement guest room for fear of waking my beloveds). So when I found this blog-post still waiting on my computer, I thought, what the hell. Shouldn’t tell you that it’s been warm and sunny and my daughter is even sporting a mild sunburn on her chest from reckless sun-worshipping. I know: “wah wah”.

Deb: Deb: First off, I am glad that Barb came clean and fessed up to the fact that the blog was written pre beautiful weather. It has been stunning, warm and sunny. Secondly, those of you who follow the blog regularly, you know that one of my pet peeves is complaining about the weather. Barb read me this one with some reluctance! :-)

As I have said many times, if it is raining and you are miserable about it, then it is raining and miserable. If it is raining and you embrace it, the day holds endless possibilities. I am still that gal who can lift my face to the dark clouds and smile. 

Storm Of The Century!!!

Deb: Everywhere you looked, every news channel, every paper, every stranger in line at the grocery store, everyone was talking about it. It was going to be the STORM OF THE CENTURY and it was coming to our city!

Thirty centimeters of snow! That was guaranteed. Beyond that they weren’t sure, but they knew it was going to be bad. Stay off the roads! Close the schools! Batten down the hatches! So we did. People by the thousands cancelled appointments, rescheduled meetings and stocked up on food for the one day shut-in.

And then it came. Started easy, with light flurries and then ... well, then it kinda stayed easy with a few more flurries ... AND THEN ... well, I guess it kinda blew around a bit like light flurries are wont to do. And then it kinda piled on top of each other till we were held captive by six full inches of snow.

I am sure the Mayor had the army on Stand By, but instead I have no doubt that the army all went for dinner and drinks. And it would have been easy to get to any restaurant or bar, given that there was no one on the roads. We were all holed up protecting ourselves and our loved ones against the STORM OF THE CENTURY ... Century ... century.

Even the Salvation Army would have been overkill for this tiny little storm.

Honest to Pete, we had more snow than this before Christmas and no one batted an eye. But dutifully prepared, my husband and I had the shovel ready by the back door to dig a path for the dogs to get to the back of our yard to do their business, lest they be swallowed up by this tsunami of snow, this looming wall of powder.

When we opened the door the morning after the STORM OF THE CENTURY, the dogs looked at us as if to say, “Yeah, don’t bother with the shovel. We got this one.”  And they ambled down the stairs with the ease of a spring day. They knew. They were embarrassed for the weather too.

And yet, it’s not the weather’s fault. It’s just doing what weather does. It’s just being weather––raining here, storming there. It’s the messengers of the weather that are responsible for this debacle. The media weather porn distributers. STOP IT. BE RESPONSIBLE. STOP IT.

I’m embarrassed for us now. Sucked in again. Oh well ... sure is pretty though.

Barbara: Sigh. I wanted a true snow day, a true “we’re stuck together” excuse for eating chips and playing games and sitting around the fire when otherwise we would be working or schooling. Sadly, I even stocked up on provisions the day before––including those supposed-to-be-guilt-free-chips-because-it’s-a-snow-day, and prepared myself for snowful abandon. Except one daughter still had school and the other had “too much homework” (blah blah blah) and my husband decided to take on those “storm ravaged roads” to find only mildly slushy coverage and no one in the way. So I ate those chips, yes I did, by MYSELF, while skyping a work day with Deb (love that skype––don’t get me started). And it’s so not a “snow day” if you’re still working, even with a beloved, even with a bowl of chips.

Storm of the century? I hardly noticed it for all the disappointed whining (mine).

Winter Closet

Barbara: I know I complain about the weather. I haven’t really hidden the fact that I’m fussy

that way, have I? I’ve harrumphed about the cold, the damp, the rain, the snow, here and to everyone else that will listen (even to Deb who will have none of it!). I can make peace with it, but still it’s the lack of sun and air that I find hard to navigate with good mood intact.

Okay, THAT SAID, I have to admit that I take a bit of a guilty-pleasure every Jan 1^st because that’s when I really look forward to a few months of isolated hibernation … during which I can write, write, WRITE!!!

I mean, obviously I write year-round. It is my escape, my reward, my pleasure, my pain, my job, my obsession. There are so many stories and SO LITTLE TIME!! But there’s something about hunkering in for a long haul that has winter-respite written all over it. Like an endless snow day where the reward isn’t cocoa and TV, but disappearing into warrens of stories too complex to see the light of a summer day, too delicate to be interrupted for walks or gardening or the chores necessary for greeting guests. Winter (after the holidays) is not usually a time for greeting guests. That honour goes to lazy warm days and nights.

So for me, winter has come to mean the glory of a good long cold-induced REVEL. A revel of creating and discovering. Of editing and re-editing. Then editing again. Of polishing and spit-shining and high-gloss-waxing. It is a time like no other for me to allow myself to “just do it”. Yeah, I said “allow”, but that’s because there is a certain surrender involved and surrender is only truly delicious when you don’t always GET TO give in to it. At least that’s how I feel.

Writing is my silk purse out of the sow’s ear that is winter. You?

Deb: And that is exactly what I was talking about when I discussed the weather and people complaining about it. So I am very glad you have your silk purse to get you through. As you know, my thing is to not sit in the bad feelings.  I simply refuse to be unhappy and complain when I know that every single thing I complain or feel badly about has good side. My goal is to always try to find that good side. Now I confess that with winter I did not turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse, as winter is a frosted silk purse to me. But I am thrilled that you have found its gift for you!!!

Summer Lovin'

Deb: The tide, or rather the temp is turning. We have had a long hot summer here in Toronto, fraught with high temperatures and higher humid index. It has been a sexy sweaty summer, accompanied by heavy thunderstorms and buckets of rain. I can’t remember the last time a summer this hot was reflected by burgeoning plants and green green grass. The rain has come almost exactly when we have needed it, craved it, and it has come hard and mostly at night.

But suddenly, there is a slight nip in the air, an amuse-bouche of autumn’s considerable gifts. We are still getting mostly warm weather but the fade is on. The markets are full of autumnal mums and my fuchsia plants are starting to thin out just a tad. Shorts and tanks are still the order of the day, but I will grab a light jacket and throw it in the car just before rushing out the door. When I shower and leave the house, I stay showered, not like July where we resided in a traveling steam room. But I will wallow in perfect days like today––26 degrees and a slight breeze––and cling to them until the summer wanes.

I am usually ready by this point to say goodbye to summer, but the summer of 2010 has done its job, bless its steamy little heart. There will be no lamenting a missing summer this year. It showed up and got the job done. I am not one bit embarrassed for it. Lived up to its resumé, this summer did.

So as a reward of sorts, I shall not look ahead to the fall, my favourite season. I will stay right with summer for its final summery weeks and wave its sunny flag right to the last bumblebee. Thank you, summer of 2010! I will remember you fondly when in the coming months my nose hairs freeze.

Barbara: Oh, yes, this has been a glorious summer for those of us living in Ontario. Not sure how it’s been for the rest of you, but here it’s been just as Deb says, with steamy heat and lots of well-timed sun. Cocktail hour has never been so fair and sweet.

That said, every important weather day for me this summer has not come through. BabyFest? Steaming hot before and after, winter cold and stormy for those precious three days. Taking my niece to the local fair (otherwise known as The Ex)? Yup, hot and sunny the day before and after, unseasonably cold and rainy on that one day and night (it’s hard enough for me to face an amusement park ride as it is, never mind putting on a brave face for my sweet niece and shivering from frostbite as we rollercoastered and tilta-whirled). Told you I loved to complain about the weather.

And on that note––the biggest shiver induced by Deb’s lovely post has to be from her ode to fall. Um, not so much for me. I do love the colours and I can even bear the occasional cooler day. I do like the symbolism of the “fresh start”—and, funnily, this seems to manifest often in my life. Lots of fresh starts in fall. But knowing winter is coming after the season, with its cold and dark and forced indoor life, I can’t help but want to hang onto my summer porch, kicking and screaming and tantruming until winter concedes and pats my head and goes away. If only that would work *sigh*…

Deb: Well, you already know my thing on this as I have said in many a blog. I don’t let the weather define my life or the events therein negatively. I count my blessings that I do not live in a part of the world that weather can ruin your home or your life in a second. So for me, I love all weather and look for the beauty in each day. Corny maybe, but it is so true for me. I am a weather ho, a season’s slut, if you will.

I am so sorry, Barb, that the summer was ultimately defined for you by a few events. We had some of those moments ourselves, but we took it in its stride and chalked it up as Mother Nature’s crap-shoot. I have never counted on weather to make or break my fun. I have always taken it as it comes, moving inside when needed, like a picnic that gets a sudden downfall and ends up with a game of snakes and ladders on the deck.

This side of you is so unBarb to me as you are such a positive person who finds beauty in everything. But as you have said, I guess it is just the Weather Witch in you that you strive to control.

We live in a country of seasons and it is my blessing that we do. Autumn weather is like heaven in my view. I long for the “Boo Radley” nights with the leaves crackling and whipping in the snug autumn wind. Oh, dear me, it is like breath to me. Magic. And winter? Never do I feel so alive as when the frosty morning slaps me in the face and says, “What the hell are you staying indoors for??? Come out and walk with me till your fingers feel tingly and your cheeks are cherry red! Then come inside and circle your hand around a steamy hot chocolate. Now, look out your window. I’m out here all frozen, keeping it real for the sleeping earth till I choose the time to put back the spring in your step.” Seasons! Are you kidding me? Who loves ya, baby???

Barbara: Um, did Deb say something? ‘Cause all I heard was, “Blah blah weather blah slut blah blah.”

Weather Vane

Deb: Today is one of those days where I find myself embarrassed for the weather. 

I am not a complainer of all things weather. I take it as I find it, just happy to be alive and experiencing it. Actually, people complaining about the weather is number one on my pet peeves list. FOR GOD’S SAKE IT’S THE WEATHER, YOU CAN’T CONTROL IT, JUST DEAL WITH IT. 

However there are days like today when I find myself feeling embarrassed for it. Unable to really look at it in fear that it will spot my mocking glance and feel more ashamed of itself than it already does. For today we have a weather limbo, a rock and hard place, a shit or get off the pot kind of day. It is 8:15 am. It was supposed to pour rain. Fine with me. Then we heard sun and a little cloud. Great, bring it. But what we have is what I can only describe as Mother Nature’s constipation. It is dark and ominous, but nothing is happening. It tried to rain but barely misted. 

Now the poor weather is so stopped up, it is panicking. Getting darker and darker with nothing to show for it. Poor impotent weather. It is so still outside, like the weather has gone all quiet hoping someone will notice and bring help. Need to rain ... Need to rain ... but ... just ... can’t.... 

Don’t worry weather, help is on the way. I’ll wash my car. 

Barbara: And what brings the sun out, I ask. Throwing a shower? Er… 

By the way, I’m the total opposite. I’m that person you hate. I blame the weather for everything. My headaches, my mood, other people’s moods, fatigue, depression, stress, bad driving, bad traffic, being late, being sick, you name it! It’s the weather’s fault. I frown at its snow and storm, I grumble at its cold and damp. I revel in its sun and warmth. But I am in constant communion with it. It makes my day or holds it back. Bad weather, bad news; good weather, good omen.

It’s a bad habit, I know. And when people like you tell people like me to get a grip, I smile benignly and pretend you have a terrifically valid point, then turn my head and mumble under my breath that the weather better smarten up and only rain, gloom, or snow on days when I have nothing better to do. 

Deb: Okay, you are going to say that I put the Polly in Pollyanna ... I WISH. But ever since I was a kid, I had a weather-appreciation gene which always had me seeing the upside of any weather whatsoever (try saying “any weather whatsoever” three times fast). If it was raining, for example, I would think, “Yeah, I can get to my scrapbook and have tea.” The only issues I had were “the tanning years” where even a second of cloud could send me into the deep doldrums!

Sadly the enjoyment of my favourite weather––which is a thunder and lightening storm––is dampened (pun intended) by the terror and disgust emanating from my little blonde dog! Coincidence, Barb? So, the next time you are pissed at the weather, dear friend, just wag your tail and reach for the nearest complimentary adjective! 

But I won’t lie to you ... freezing rain will be a challenge! 

Barbara: You have a terrifically valid point.