As a British Columbian, winter is something I have not had the supreme pleasure of partaking in for a long while. Coming to Western was a rude awakening from my near tropical honeymoon. Now, let’s get one thing straight right off the bat: I’m not from northern B.C. where the polar bears and yetis make snow forts and eat icicles, and people have permafrost instead of carpet in their houses…. I’m from Vancouver Island. Basically, there is a palm tree outside of my house. I’m not kidding though… There is actually a palm tree outside of my house.
From what I have heard, this winter is longer and is clinging on more viscously than any recent year.
London climate gods…. All I have to say is thank you for gracing my first Ontario winter with this sort of weather. It is greatly appreciated. I love walking outside, and having small children run up to me to “say hello to the Michelin Man” when they see me in my layers. It does great things for my self-esteem.
My friends at home frequently bestow upon me wonderful descriptions of the weather back home…. They tell me about the 15-day streak of unseasonably warm weather, and how the daffodils came out earlier than usual this year (as I wonder whether or not I will suffocate if I fall into a 6 foot snow bank).
As a proud British Columbian, I stared into the face of my first Ontario winter and said: “Winter? One second while I grab my light spring jacket…”, and stubbornly refused to buy a real winter coat. It is now mid-March and I can proudly say that after almost becoming hypothermic twice, I still have not given in and bought a winter coat. People tell me I live in denial of the brutality of Ontario winter. I turn around and tell them that we British Columbians are a tough breed (as I try not to notice my fingers turning blue). The majority of my friends at home do not even know the purpose of a windshield scraper, and believe that two inches of snow on one day of the year that melts off in four hours warrants a snow day.
Before this year, I thought of stereotypical Canadian winters as some sort of sick joke people closer to the equator told their children to scare them out of coming to Canada… Those polar bears, eh? But now I realize that it is a reality for everyone east of the Rockies.
Looking out the window, I notice that another flurry has commenced, just as I am about to leave for class.
I absolutely love winter.