snowblind

i am so %#!*?!! sick of the snow!!

we're having yet another storm. the art gallery in a nearby city has collapsed under the weight of the snow on it. the snow piled up along the road out my window is so high i can only see the roof of the building on the other side. i'll have rush home and shovel the snow AGAIN before my violin students come tonight. the snowdrifts in the parking lot at work are beginning to cover the windows. the snow in the parking lot isn't piled here, but trucked away, and still the drifts of white death slowly and insidiously encroach on life. only arrogance believes man can control the elements.

the sky and the land are the same color. the light is so diffused there are no shadows, and the snow continues to fall. silent menace. invisible poison wafting through the air, tainting the hearts of all who must breathe it. not a person walks into the office from outside, but curses the weather in his own way. even the snowmobile fanatics are sick of the snow!

and, no surprise, it's supposed to warm up for the weekend, and rain. again. then freeze. again. and snow. again.

it's the northern alberta version of the movie, groundhog day, where every night the protagonist goes to bed anticipating the new day to come, and wakes up to relive the old one. we're trapped in winter forever!!!

SNOWBALLS!!!

I'm so very glad it's Friday!!!

And what a beautiful day! Glorious sunshine, mild temperatures, and the promise of spring! And a whole weekend ahead of me!

It was perfect snowball weather yesterday. I threw snowballs at the foremen who were leaving work the same time as me last night after work, and at the kids as they left the writing class I taught last night. One of the mums got quite cross at the kids for throwing snowballs back at me, then went all weird when she learned that I'd started it. You can't get all grumpy and blame the TEACHER, right? It's such fun being a childish adult. Messes with the heads of those who take themselves far too seriously.

And these kids are brilliant. It's a thrill to see their faces light up as they discover their own ability to craft words. I kept thinking of my own kids, now grown, and all the books we've read together, and how articulate they are, each in his or her own way. Language is a powerful tool.

On a day like this, I can smell spring coming. After a week or so of mild days like this, the rushing sap in the willows will cause the buds to begin to swell, and the lids will pop off the irrepressably boisterous pussy willows. Then there will be no containing spring. She'll burst out in a riot of chirping birds and popping buds and burbling streams and murmering breezes.

Yes, folks! even here in the frozen north, winter's grip is weakening.