An Unseasonably Warm Saturday in November

Winter Trees
This is the magic kind of winter day I love.

It’s a gorgeous morning here in North-Central Alberta.  Hard to believe, actually, that it’s November.  A month ago I would have thought we’d be knee-deep in the white stuff and freezing our tushies off.  Not so.  Mother Nature has had a stroke I believe, or developed Alzheimer’s, because our weather is all out of balance and kind of making the rest of us that way, too.

The sad thing is, I like it this way.  I know that we need cold and snow and sub-zero temps to kill viruses, and bacteria and pine beetles, and that my darling perennials need deep-root sleep in order to thrive next spring, but I can’t help revelling in these schizophrenic times. 

I hate snow, unless it’s seen from inside, or it’s one of those fairytale days where the sun is shining like a gold coin in the bottom of shallow stream, and the temperature is barely below freezing.  Remember those days? 

Those were the days when you were a kid that you tromped along with your friends, coats open to the warm breeze, your shoes (who wore boots?) wet to the ankles, no hat, but a long, long scarf trailing behind you like a kite tail.  And you felt that free, that full of joy and life and you laughed and talked about a future you couldn’t even barely imagine, but you believed in your heart that it would always be as good as you felt in that moment, with your friends, with nothing but sunshine bursting all around you. 

Those are the winter days I like.  There are other categories of ‘those days’ that I cherish, and if winter could always only be made up of them then I don’t believe we’d have any ‘seasonal disorder’ diagnoses to contend with.  There’d be no reason for anyone to ever be upset, depressed or lacking in vitamin D.  It would be a perfect world. 

Ahh, such fantasy!  Eventually, snow will fall, it will blanket everything, we’ll feel stifled and mildly claustrophobic.  Our tempers will become short, our humours dark.  It will become harder and harder to drag ourselves outside to commune with others, and we’ll become slightly more pessimistic about the fate of the world and mankind in general. 

But. . .  if we keep in mind that those magical days are out there, if we keep ourselves open to the possibility of respite from the long, dark days of sleep, we’ll be okay.  We can remember how it felt to be young and vital and full of blind faith in the beautiful potential of ourselves and the world. 

So, whether or not Mother Nature has slipped loose her moorings, I’m going to enjoy these days for as long as I can.  I will not think about global warming, melting ice-caps (unless, they’re from Tim Horton’s), tsunami’s, earthquakes, El Nino’s or El Nina’s.  That’s adult, responsible thought.  I want, if even only for a brief, delusional moment, to feel in my heart that the world is that great and beautiful and unalterable entity I once-upon-a-time took for granted that it was.

Have a beautiful day.


2 thoughts on “An Unseasonably Warm Saturday in November

  1. If all you set out to accomplish with this was to spark a little memory in each of us, and make us feel great about loving this weather,(even though it is not politically correct to), I have to tell you … did that and more! I was immediately 14 years old again, walking down that familiar road between house and school, meeting Pam half way. I got a smile on my face when I saw her up around the bend, dressed pretty much exactly the same way I was. When we caught up with one another the first words out of our mouths were “I hate winter, but today is not so bad eh”? She faded slowly away along with the memory of those mornings, but I realized that as long as I have these feelings you get when you see, hear, smell, read, something familiar and forgotten (feelings you get when you hear an old song…how it brings you back to times you thought you lost), I realized that Pam is always just up around the bend. Thank you for that.

    Love ya

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s