I wish I could take a picture of the cold. I can’t. At least not one that would suitably transfer the feeling of just how cold it is. As a Canadian, it really isn’t that cold. It’s only -21c, that’s downright blmy as Canadian winters go. Somehow, the older I get the colder it feels. “It” being the real temperature. I remember looking at people my age, which is not that old, (48 soon to be 49) and shaking my head in wonder when they would say something like, “I can’t deal with these Canadian winters any longer.” or “Son of a bitch it’s blue ball cold out here, eh?”. I didn’t get it. I was indestructible at that age. Whatever that age was.
I understand, now. It seems the older I get, the smarter my parents get.
There is something about the cold that signifies, to me, my real age. I say real because my heart and spirit are young but my body is fails to acknowledge the other two. As I said earlier it is only -20 and it feels a hell of a lot colder. Hell, I howled with wolves, buck naked on a January night in NW Ontario at -25. I worked in bone freaking chilling -45 with a wind chill of -50 something. THAT is cold. I have walked my dog at – 50 with no windchill. THAT was stupid! I have done the New Year Polar Bear dip here in town, THAT was also stupid and I have lived in a place (Sioux Narrows, ON) when the temperature did not, for 32 days, rise ABOVE -30. That wears on a person. So why on earth does this -20 feel as bad as all those?
I can only attribute it to my age. I get colder easier, my hands and elbows ache. Even the thought of running to the hot tub seems like a daunting trek across the Antarctic. Wait, was that a penguin perched on my tub cover??? I’m not complaining. I chose to live here and I love Prince George. I have moose wandering down my little cul de sac and eating berries from the neighbour’s Mountain Ash, I have bears perched in the little Weeping Birch, tipping garbage cans and scaring me back to the house while I was on some photo journey down the path in back. I would miss the snow at Christmas, I would miss the sense of urgency that fall brings, knowing the cold is around the corner. I would miss the first snow, the hoar frost, the sense of toughness that a Canadian winter instills.
Something about the cold, I would not miss.
I am about to throw a robe on and get undressed in that -20 degree weather so I can sit in a nice hot tub. Look out penguins, here I come!!
I’m not sure how long I can handle these Prince George winters.
Just before I hit the publish button, it dawned on me that maybe I wasn’t getting “older”, I was getting more sensible!