Outside the window, in the darkened yard, there’s snow. That kissing sound against the glass. It will melt off because it’s only November, but still it’s a foretaste. I don’t know why I find it so exciting. I know what’s coming: slush, darkness, flu, black ice, wind, salt stains on boots. But still there’s a sense of anticipation: you tense for the combat. Winter is something you can go out into, confront, then foil by retreating back indoors.
~Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin
The brittle cold of winter brings out many things, such as colds, numb toes, the early dark evenings and chilly mornings, the layers of coats, scarves, and other wooly things, soft armour to brace one against the biting north winds.
But with winter there are the things that I love the most. The reward and comfort of drinking a whole pot of tea with a good book after braving the snow and ice. These things are so much more enjoyable in winter.
The hermit in me secretly loves winter.
Yes, I get terribly sick almost every time this year, and yes, my skin peels and cracks from the frosty, dry air, and yes the inconveniences of snow blizzards and -30°c below weather takes its toll on everything, but I can’t help but love it. Winter means snowflakes, and cuddles, and rosy, frostbitten cheeks, and the gratitude that comes with having a warm home to return to, and the generous empathy and help for those who aren’t as fortunate to have that.
So, while I, like many complain about the freezing temperatures, I think I would miss winter if it never came.
I’m all snotty and sniffly, but gosh darn it, this is good tea! Now, I just hope this cold goes away before it turns into the usual “I sound like I’m dying” cough.