Global Warming and Cool Cats

We Canadians have a love-hate relationship with snow. I should say adult Canadians, I suppose. Because when you look at it, Canadian children aren't as judgemental about weather. They don't have driver's licences nor the inclination to worry about clean sidewalks and frozen plumbing. It's the love side of the relationship that I recall most fondly.

I remember growing up in small town Ontario during the sixties. When the snow fell, a kind of mass mania struck with an unimaginable allure. Every kid around was pulled by an irresistable force to the out of doors. The bliss engendered by being the first kid on the block to make footprints in freshly fallen snow was a great reward. Maybe we felt like explorers covering new ground, despite the fact that we had trod the same ground sans snow many times before. It didn't matter if there was a fresh blanket to run through. The juvenile imagination ran wild. There were snow forts to be built and snowmen to be erected. There were snowball battles to be fought.

All was well with the world.

As an adult, unfortunately I have to work harder to find snow in this pristine shape. Sometimes it's hard to find snow at all. It's been couple of years since I've had the pleasure of donning snowshoes and wandering around the Grey County Forest. I have to get out in the snow just to recover some of that youthful exuberance for the stuff. Living in a large city has certainly changed my appreciation for snow because it's so disruptive. Our illustrious mayor called out the Canadian Army a few years back to help cope with a larger than usual snowfall. All of the folks who were prepared and nonplussed by the amount of snow scratched their collective heads at the commotion. Even so, we were all annoyed that something that was commonplace 25 years ago is now considered a major nuisance.

Despite these urban foibles, I have to side with the rest of Canadians who scoff at Toronto's inability to cope. Don't whine about the snow. Get out and play in it.