In spite of another mild spell of weather, winter still stretches on and on. I remember as a child finding the long, cold months exciting, the outdoors an enticing playground. The hint in the air of the first snowfall was intriguing.
We were blessed to be a part of a large rural family, with built-in playmates and cohorts. Ours was a vast expanse of playing fields and we took advantage of it. Our usual games of tag could be redesigned to accommodate snow. We still played soccer when it was dry and warm enough. The danger with that was the farm dog liked to play as well. His tackles weren't executed with fair play in mind. He was also known to use his teeth on exposed flesh if the game got too exciting.
We had the requisite swing suspended from enormous poplars. What fun it was to pump with our legs, until the swing was soaring. We were sure we were able to fly. Fortunately none of us ever let go. Maybe it was a mixed blessing when the tree branch broke and the swing had to be decommissioned. We did have a low-hanging tire swing for awhile but there was no comparison. Where was the fun in that?
I really never thought much about winter until I was on my own in northern Alberta. The winters were longer, no Chinook winds to temper the chill. We had long-lasting weeks of -35 to -40 C during January for many of the years I lived there. I was fortunate to have supportive neighbours for the expected car issues. I also had co-workers who had lived there for years and took the harsh winter in their stride.
I heard a lot of tales. "This is nothing. I remember when..." Some of the old-timers I met at the library's circulation desk had personal anecdotes of attending community parties in -50 C weather, travelling in groups in large horse-drawn wagons or buggies, wrapped in blankets and mufflers with heated bricks at their feet.
It is always important to hear the perspectives of others. While I worked at the Peace River Library I was privileged to meet former Lt.-Gov. Grant MacEwan. He was touring all the local libraries, promoting his books. Could he tell a good tale! He was travelling on the Greyhound bus and the librarian was responsible to provide accommodation and ensure that he met his next ride.
We also had Mary Percy Jackson promote her memoirs during my time there. She was a British doctor who moved from the U.K. to the Far North of Canada. She married a pioneer and settled on a homestead near Keg River. She made her rounds on horseback in all weather.
I can only imagine how cold and uncomfortable her life had to be. It makes me reconsider my attitude to winter. All of my adult life, I have lived in town with amenities close at hand. I can easily walk to any destination if necessary without too much danger to myself. In fact I do a lot of walking just for the sheer joy of it.
All I need to readjust my thinking is to spend a little time at long-term care. The residents there have had ample opportunity to learn patience. Sometimes I am able to listen to the retelling of memories and join in their laughter.
The downtime that winter brings gives me time to relax: crochet projects, a stack of library books, letter writing or walking on the treadmill all keep me occupied while I wait for whatever comes next.
- Hoey is a longtime Gazette columnist
"I really never thought much about winter until I was on my own in northern Alberta. The winters were longer, no Chinook winds to temper the chill."
