Kimberly, who blogs at Kimberly’s Cave, says of herself and this post:
I’m a creeping-up-to 30 year old Canadian teacher on exchange for the year in Australia. I’m passionate about reading, writing, grammar, and Psychology. I am also extremely fond of Walt Disney, Coca Cola, and winter. I do relish a good summer heat wave and days of lounging poolside while perfecting my tan, but it’s “winter” in the southern hemisphere right now. So, to all your northern hemisphere-ians melting in August’s heat, enjoy this cool blast of a perfect winter’s night.
I recently weekended at a ”holiday house” in Goolwa and was asked by an Australian to, “Sell me Canada,” after we’d gone back and forth about nice and not-so-nice things about Canadian cities I’d lived in and visited. Finally he challenged, “Well, what’s your favourite smell of home?” and while I couldn’t answer that without some thought, I could instantly recall my favourite Canadian sound…..
Yes, Snow. You may not think snow has a sound. There ARE certain necessary conditions to acheive the beautiful sounds of a winter’s eve.
It’s been snowing all day. ALL day. From the time you peer through the curtains at first light until long after you’ve crawled back under the toasty covers for another long night.
Dry enough to scatter with the scuffle of a boot, to squeak under each footfall. Wet enough to gather on every branch, mailbox, and Christmas light.
Snow plows are busy on the highways. They won’t disturb us for days. The roads have only the barely visible tire tracks of the few unfortunate souls trekking to work on the perfect winter today.
Dark now. Late. Tummies are full of a hot meal – it’s time to layer up. Warmest boots, sweaters, vests, scarves, mittens, a hat.
Crisp air meets breath and crystallizes magic puffs.
Every natural and man-made creation has disappeared. In their steads, rolling mounds of snow; the warm glow of green and red under eaves of white; ever-fattening branches reaching out to say hello.
Look up! No black winter night, not a star in sight – rather a rich purple light reflected from a flawless world blanketed in white.
Roadways gone, cars put to sleep under a deep layer, houses nearly swallowed up. Nothing exists but the icy air creeping in at the tips of ears, noses, toes. Crunch underfoot, and not another sound.
An enveloping experience that hugs you from all sides, whispers for you to stop – have this moment, nudges you to believe that, yes, winter is living, breathing, speaking, loving me tonight.
A fragrant curl of smoke draws you back inside to hear the roll of kettle boiling, the pop of firewood crackling, and Silent Night reminding – hold on to this moment. Wrap your chilled hands around After Eight hot chocolate; savour mom’s special Christmas baking; squeeze onto the couch with your family; prop your icy toes at the fire; melt away.
Canadian winter. Nothing can touch it. Nothing.
If you’re interested, you can check out the version with — spectacular — photos on Kimberly’s blog here.
And if you’re interested in guest blogging here yourself, feel free to email me at firstname.lastname@example.org.