BABY, IT’S COLD OUTSIDE

Nope.  Nope.  Nope.

I am not going outside into that craziness.

Oh, I admit that the pictures on Facebook are breath-takingly beautiful – the ice crystal haze, the fabulous sun dogs, the dazzling white snow contrast with the brilliant blue skies – incredible.  But, you know what?  I can see them on Facebook.  I don’t have to go out and freeze my nostrils shut for the pleasure of this gobsmacking scenery.  We have central heating, it would be a shame to waste it.

We always get a few days of crazy cold every winter, but this week is a bit over the top.  Not the temperatures so much – the 40-below-is-40-below Fahrenheit/Celsius conversation comes up on a regular basis, although the folks on the west coast don’t usually comprehend what we’re talking about.  And the comparing of our windchills in Southern Saskatchewan with those in Siberia, while not unheard of, is definitely not the norm. 

The image that tells the story best is the map of Canada shown on the Weather Channel; from sea to sea to sea, with very few exceptions, the entire country is painted in that ‘red for danger’ color.  This is an honour usually reserved for the middle of the country from the 49^th parallel right on up to Santa’s front doorstep.  Any provinces closer to oceans or further south normally get to dodge that bullet, but in January of 2024 we all get to bond in our universal Canadian identity.  We could all use a group hug for the warmth, but don’t stay in one place too long, we might freeze that way.

One would think that it’s a silent world out there.  There are no birds, not even tough old ravens squawking their dominance, and I haven’t heard a single coyote song in days.  If you go out, though, there will be noise.  Every step that you take in that super frozen snow will squeak.  I don’t know what the scientific explanation for it is, but the lower the temperature, the higher the pitch of the squeak.  It sounds very much like nails scratching across a blackboard, and is every bit as pleasant.

Not that I’ve ventured out (see my opening remarks), but I have occasionally opened the door for a dog who thinks he might want to go out.  Sometimes he actually does, and sometimes he reconsiders – “is this just boredom, or do I really have to pee?” 

It takes minus 40 degree weather to remind me that our deck door doesn’t quite seal at the top of the frame.  I know this because I get a light dusting of frost down my neck when I open the door – frozen condensation from escaping warm, moist air.  Another day or so of this and I imagine the door will just self heal and freeze shut.  The porch door cries out in a painful squeak of its own when opened.  I don’t understand the cause of this and am not about to diagnose it at 40 below.

Not everyone can hide out in the house though.  It came as no surprise this morning that the cattle waterer was frozen and that this job would have to be taken care of.  There’s been a lot of “Thank the oilfield workers/farmers/power company repairmen” posts these past few days, and okay, that’s nice, but it is their jobs.  I don’t make light of how important it is to feed the energy grid and keep it running or to care for livestock no matter the hardship, but all jobs have downsides.  There’s no need to be melodramatic.  All my farmer said when he reported the frozen waterer was “Guess that’s what I’m going to be doing today.”  It’s simple – it’s his job.  His only grumble was that of course it was Sunday so if he needed parts he was going to have to wait. 

The other interesting circumstance was Alberta’s request for their population to please cut back on their power consumption to avoid grid failure and the implied political inference that this was all Ottawa’s fault. 

This is just me, but the people were asked to cut power consumption AND they did.  AND it fixed the problem.  This philosophy could be taken so much further.  We, the consumers of power, need to seriously question our needs vs. our appetites for latest gadget coming down the pike.  A kitchen 50 years ago had one plugin per wall, today the code is one every three feet.  Yes, we need good heating in a well insulated house.  No, we don’t need every device under the sun.  The answer to so many of our problems come from the bottom up, not the top down.  But, I digress.

The weather app on my phone promises things are looking up.  It says that from here on in the temperatures will moderate. 

I appreciate that. 

I also have tickets to Mexico.  I will go outside there.

Yep.  Yep.  Yep.

 

GROWTH AND RENEWAL

Here we are at the very end of another year.  Time is a confusing thing – how can it be that some days take forever but when you put them all together into larger units like a year time seems to disappear in the blink of an eye?  The advice of “don’t blink” comes to mind.

It has been a different Christmas season for us with all of the festivities taking place in someone else’s house.  I have not cooked a single turkey or batch of buns, or made up a single extra bed for overnight guests.  The days have been routine and quiet.  The weather has been mild.  The days are already getting longer, something we observe with joy and relief in this household.

I am in no rush to take down the Christmas tree.  Last year we finally bought an artificial one so there are no needles falling off to make a mess or spear bare feet.  I especially like how not remembering to water it has no consequences at all, and the damage to the floor by my overwatering in the past has not gotten any worse either.  I should have gone ‘fake tree’ years ago.

The only push to get the fake tree put away is that my real house plants don’t like where they have to spend the holidays and are showing their displeasure by stopping flowering and dropping leaves.  They need their southern exposure back before they are nothing but sticks.  It won’t happen today, but soon.

It’s funny, decorating the tree is a time to look back – to open windows to past Christmases with each ornament I hang on the tree or garland I string across the deck – but putting these very same things away is a different story.  This job causes me to look forward to the coming year.

It is unusual for us to have actual plans this early on but this year we have a family wedding in Mexico right off the hop.  It’s fun to anticipate the beaches, the many family members also attending, and especially the fact that we get to share this adventure with our grandchildren.  The happy anticipation is building for us all.

Also on our 2024 agenda is a camping/music festival later on in the summer.  This is something that I’ve always wanted to check out but my significant other feels very differently.  How his daughter talked him into this for my Christmas gift boggles my mind.  She definitely has more pull than I do.

But that is only what we are doing, and it seems pretty tame compared to what is on the horizon for some of our kids and grandkids.  There is going to be significant continent hopping going on for them.

Due to work opportunities one of our families is off to South Africa for a couple years.  The grandsons are already super excited about going on safari and seeing lions and tigers and elephants.  I can’t say that I have ever dreamed of this kind of adventure but I am almost certain we will visit them there.  Thanks to our wandering kids I will only have one continent left to see.  I cannot imagine ever setting foot on Antarctica though, not even for the “we did them all!” claim to fame.

They will no sooner be gone than a grandson who left for Australia at two years old plans to return to Canada for University and we will be off to Edmonton to spend time with him and his dad as they get him settled in.  It would have been even better if his volleyball scholarship could have been offered by a closer school but Alberta is better than Sydney; we will make it work. 

I also have another plant that needs attention.  Unlike the sulking, struggling Mandevilla, my umbrella tree has only thrived in the west bedroom, taking over the space.  It started out as a tiny sprout purchased at Liboiron’s store 45 years ago and due to numerous miracles and its obvious will to live it is still with us.  It has done so well that it can no longer be squeezed through a door and the last few fronds it has put out are up against the ceiling.  The situation calls for drastic surgery.  Ironically, to save it I have to chop off and re-root the top so that it can continue to grow. 

In a way this perfectly symbolizes the faith I will put in the coming year.  I’m not sure if it’s my personality or an age factor, but I can’t imagine ‘re-rooting’ myself for life on another continent, but I recognize that these new environments encourage growth that won’t happen if the moves aren’t made.  It’s scary to cut up a thriving plant and put it in a new pot to begin again, but I’ve done it before. Actually, this is the only reason the umbrella plant still going strong.  My hope is that my metaphor fits the humans in my life. 

So, here’s to 2024!  Here’s to growth, and renewal, and since it’s a Leap year, a full 366 days of good things!