by Joseph Broadworth

Created on: November 20, 2008

Ah, the beauty of a northern winter. The Northern Lands, stolid and serene, enduring eons of glacial tumult, they stand silently aloof from the mad, hectic south. Okay, that was my poetic opening, time to get to the point.

I have always loved winter, it has always been my favourite season. And unless some personal Franklin Expedition-type tragedy befalls me, I believe it will continue to be. A cold winter day, snow shimmering in the sun, the brisk winds slightly stinging your face. Okay, okay, enough with the poetics. I have often wondered if my love for winter had more to do with my hatred of the summer. Let me explain.

We have all been through it. Middle of July, mercury at 38 degrees (I'm a Canadian, so that's in Celsius, maybe around 110 degrees for the Yanks), humidity makes it feel like 44. You shower and get ready for work and as soon as you step outside your clothes are dampening in your own sweat. It puts me in a foul mood just thinking about it. The lucky upper class gets air-conditioned workplaces, the rest make do the best they can. The heat is steamy, suffocating at times and elderly people have difficulty breathing. Whenever you stop to converse with others the topic inevitably is about the weather, and one jackass always pipes up "Oh yeah, this is the stuff. I love it, bring on the sun!" while the others in the group then lock dagger-like eyes on this mutant and silently judge him. Do not get me wrong, I like summer. Any summer day that is below 25 degrees (around 75 for the Yanks), with zero humidity and a cool breeze is a very pleasant day. But the summer heat waves are simply soul-sapping. Then the government warns people to conserve power and water, as everyone is inherently selfish. Most people who hear these warnings have come to this conclusion, "Well, if even half the people turn off their air-conditioners, that means I can keep mine on and go water the lawn, since there will be more power for me." But I am getting off topic, back to the glories of winter.

As a child growing up in the northern Canadian city of Thunder Bay, we were blessed with cold, dry winters in which there was much sunshine. The coldest day I recall was -72 degrees with windchill. The TV and radio warned people to stay home from work and stay indoors. Immediately after hearing this my father started layering on coats and balaclava announcing that he was going to shovel the driveway, dismissing the TV and radio people as 'spineless twits' and heading out the door whistling.

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