Cold Comfort
If the first snow of the season happens at night, I awake in the morning and look out with a child's eyes on a world of soft and silent wonder. It's magical every time, and every time reminds me of all the other times, and I drift back to long gone Christmas and the warm glow of candles, snow forts, frost on the windows, cross country skiing and skating on the old pond up the road.
But if the first snow of the season happens during the daytime, I get a whole different feeling. Here comes winter with its slippery asphalt and its chill winds. Here come the early dusk and the late dawn. Here come the ice dams in the eavestroughs and the wet patches in the front hall. Every time reminds me of all the other times, and I'm fighting for a spot in a crowded shopping mall, spending wildly on a maxed out credit card and sparing only a bitter thought for the mess we mere humans make of the birthday of a so-called Saviour...
What a difference a few flakes make, and what a difference a few hours make in the appreciation of them. Do your eyes re-open to the beauty of a tree bough laden with crystals as flakes of fluff float down, or do hateful little pellets pelt your windshield, obscure your vision and cause you to curse the whole damn season, this time around and every time?
Today the snow fell in Toronto in the daytime. My daughter and I rode the Scarborough RT through an industrial wasteland, watching wet snow soaking the recycling plants and puddles deepen behind the graffitti-strewn walls of the factories, while around us, the rainbow nation of tomorrow tightened their scarves, stared at their shoes, and bristled and bustled and mumbled with the rumble of the train....
Snow fell on Toronto, first snow of the season, mid-day in mid-November. It shouldn't have been magic. It's only magic when it happens at night. That's when you wake up and see through a child's eyes.
Today I was lucky though. I woke up and saw through a child's eyes at about 2:30 in the afternoon. It sure was pretty out there. Cold comfort, you might call it. Hey, is that what that means?
But if the first snow of the season happens during the daytime, I get a whole different feeling. Here comes winter with its slippery asphalt and its chill winds. Here come the early dusk and the late dawn. Here come the ice dams in the eavestroughs and the wet patches in the front hall. Every time reminds me of all the other times, and I'm fighting for a spot in a crowded shopping mall, spending wildly on a maxed out credit card and sparing only a bitter thought for the mess we mere humans make of the birthday of a so-called Saviour...
What a difference a few flakes make, and what a difference a few hours make in the appreciation of them. Do your eyes re-open to the beauty of a tree bough laden with crystals as flakes of fluff float down, or do hateful little pellets pelt your windshield, obscure your vision and cause you to curse the whole damn season, this time around and every time?
Today the snow fell in Toronto in the daytime. My daughter and I rode the Scarborough RT through an industrial wasteland, watching wet snow soaking the recycling plants and puddles deepen behind the graffitti-strewn walls of the factories, while around us, the rainbow nation of tomorrow tightened their scarves, stared at their shoes, and bristled and bustled and mumbled with the rumble of the train....
Snow fell on Toronto, first snow of the season, mid-day in mid-November. It shouldn't have been magic. It's only magic when it happens at night. That's when you wake up and see through a child's eyes.
Today I was lucky though. I woke up and saw through a child's eyes at about 2:30 in the afternoon. It sure was pretty out there. Cold comfort, you might call it. Hey, is that what that means?
posted by David Newland at 18.11.05
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