The Persistence of Winter

Parry Sound area fell prey to yet another snowfall this week. I'm beginning to wonder if we'll ever escape winter.

Nature's impertinent refusal to join the land of the waking reminds me of my own reluctance to participate in spring; like the seasons, I too prefer to pull up my downy, white blanket rather than leave the comfort of my sleep. I'm having a hard time shaking winter from my fingers, my toes – electing to stay in with a hill of blankets and a warm mug of tea more often than not. Hibernation's end comes late this year.

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The land's indecisiveness has been the subject of many a bumper car conversation. The question is on everybody's tongue: "What's with the snow? Where is spring? Will we ever see summer?" They only receive a snowflake's kiss in response.

I elected to take a walk amidst the stubborn season the other morning. It was truly a breathtaking sight: cool steam stampeding from the ground, illuminated by the peeking sun; the confined crunch of snow beneath my boots; the drumming-fingertips sound of rain falling from the woollen hats of the trees. You have not heard drizzle until you hear its pitter-patter against the leaves, sans clouds.

And as I walk amongst nature's stirring, swimming in the melody of singing birds, falling water, and the familiar ooo-a-ooo-hooo-hooo of a childhood friend, I am reminded that this is temporary. Everything changes.

Summer is just around the corner.


– by Aimée Lynn Gleeson