Check in: still alive!

Hi all -

Apologies for being off the map for the last year or so. I am currently working on a masters program in intercultural and international communication that is proving to be a bit of a time-suck...though a positive one if a time-suck can be deemed so!

I have many new perspectives to share and stories to tell, but as I wade through the increasingly deepening ocean of academia, I fear blog posts will be few and far between.

In the meantime, however, I realized that I have neglected to post a few of the articles I wrote for the Lillooet/Bridge River News. This one in particular from March 2011 came to mind today as I observed for the first time this year, the snow line on the mountains...winter is on its way...ugh.

Dear Winter:

Our relationship started off so enticingly last November when you began enchanting me with the beauty of your gently falling flakes. Those little sparkling diamonds danced and swirled on the cool, whispering breaths you used to tint my cheeks a glowing pink. You insulated the usual outdoor sounds left over from autumn with your snowy, placid silence. You peacefully pulled the first pillowy white duvet of winter over our little town, slowly turned down the daylight, and put us to bed for the season.
Each morning you lifted your misty cover from the mountain-tops and revealed a new masterpiece. As the weeks progressed, your wispy, silvery-white brush strokes carefully and artfully swept further and further towards the base of Fountain Ridge’s craggy canvas.

I was utterly seduced by your initial beauty. I realize now my naivety.
As our relationship progressed into December and January you began increasingly entering my home uninvited. Your dexterous digits forcefully pried through each crack in my house, weaving through the fibres of my coziest sweater so your cold fingers were always resting on my skin. Each time I turned over in bed, you would sneak into my room and your icy breath would bellow under the covers and down my spine, jeeringly re-freezing the small airspace surrounding my torso I had just spent hours trying to warm up with my meager body heat.

This is, of course, not to mention all the time you have spent ailing this season. Your uncovered hacking cough forcefully expelled frosty precipitates from the bases of your arctic lungs, releasing a bronchial artillery that loudly catapulted crystallized ammunition against my window panes. Your irregular barking whoops rattled the foundations of my house and barricaded my doors with waist high white drifts.

You laughed at me every morning after you popped my car out of your ice cube tray and into my driveway. Every morning, I was forced to hack away at my little vehicle’s frozen shell with my flimsy plastic claw as you mockingly swirled the scrapings into my face, into the creases of my pants, and down the neck of my jacket.

Lastly, the malicious partnership you developed with the local plow is inexcusable. I am pained to consider the bribe you put forth in order for him to so promptly and regularly replace your deposits that I shoveled laboriously from the bottom of my driveway. I’m certain you were laughing together over cold beers at the success of your torment while I once again dragged out my shovel and dug myself out of the aftermath of your bullying.

Get out, Winter. You are no longer welcome in my life. I am expecting a newer, gentler and warmer season to arrive any day now, so your prompt vacating of the premises would be much appreciated.

Regards,

Fiona

Writer’s disclaimer: I have never actually met my local plow-man, but in reality would unhesitatingly commend him for the great work done this winter on my street (and the greatly needed extra calories I was encouraged to burn off shoveling the end of my driveway!). This article is meant totally tongue-in-cheek. Except for the good riddance of winter. That was real and sincere ;)