Monday, 10 March 2014

Dear win.

Congratulations winter…you have finally broken my spirit. Are you happy now?

This revelation came without fanfare or really even a fight, but I knew it was over when I quit shoveling about five weeks ago. I just didn’t care anymore.

Normally I love to fire up my snow blower and clear the driveway, but after the last significant snowfall, I just didn’t have it in me. Then the plow went by and left an extra foot at the end of the driveway, and I knew I couldn’t face it. We just drove over it, and now the ruts are so deep it looks like we staged a tractor pull there. After cleaning off the hot tub lid and deck on a near daily basis, I gave that up too. All it’s doing now is festering under two feet of snow and running up the hydro meter. The sheds are inaccessible, the barbeque is buried and we only have one door out of four we can still use. We’re one more good snowfall away from being completely cut off from civilization. What are we, in Timmins for God sake? (Sorry Timmins, but…you know).

My kid is now going to grow up and be able to say to his kids, “When I was your age, we still had four feet of snow in the back yard in the middle of May, and my dad nearly turned into Jack Nicholson in The Shining when the snow slid off the roof and crushed his barbeque.”

This is Canada. It’s supposed to be cold. It’s also March and there is still so much snow out back that the dogs won’t even leave the poop trail. That’s right…the designated area for dogs to relieve themselves amounts to a series of channels carved out of the snow. It looks like World War One trench warfare out there, and it has been shrinking since December, creating an increasingly concentrated toxic area which is going to be very unpleasant when the snow finally does melt. March is supposed to be melty and sunny and a time of joyous laughter. Instead, it’s all crappy and grey and filled with ice dams and misery. Oh did I forget to mention the ice dam? At a house we rent out in town, there is an ice blockage on the roof the size of a small glacier. One of the bedroom ceilings is ready to collapse and insurance doesn't cover it.

Maybe it’s global warming or El Nino or maybe I just didn't build my winter solstice fire big enough to appease the Gods. Either way, if this happens again, I’m going to have to consider applying for a green card and moving to Texas. I could handle hurricanes, republicans and no hockey if it meant doing it at 85 °.

I have tried to embrace you winter, I really have. I've been out snowshoeing, cross country skiing, and skating on the pond. Your embrace unfortunately, has turned into a creepy, too long bear hug and you are making me uncomfortable. It’s time to let go and we’ll see you next year.

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