Here marks day one of the next six months in Canada. I will respectfully grin and bear it. Much can be said for time. The longer I’m here, the more used to this white stuff I get. I would not have ventured behind the wheel this time last year for any reason when it began to fall. Last night it didn’t phase me to grab the keys and head out to do groceries up the snowy escarpment to the next town. Okay, ask my eldest, maybe halfway there I exclaimed, “I shouldn’t have come out tonight.” I said it, but I still plodded on. There was something very calming about being one of about only 20 cars in the Walmart parking lot.
Thankfully by this morning the roads were merely wet, so our trip to the train station was uneventful other than moving at a snail’s pace. When I stepped back in the door I promised my boy he was getting pummeled with snowballs at the end of the school day. And this we did; all with great pleasure as you can see. Nothing like taking the stress of the day out in a packing snow kind of snowball fight. Besides the enormous, couldn’t-get-a-breath-coughing-fit from my youngest, we held out, colds and all.
And one of the best things about getting all cold and wet, is coming back indoors for comfort food: ours being good ol’ Bird’s Custard Powder, a “delicious British tradition” as the slogan goes.