I never thought I’d be saying this in November, but I miss the snow.
Officially it’s not winter yet; that would be Dec. 21, my city waste collection calendar says.
And that’s about a month away as I write this. But it’s grey and wet and very cool outside, with no lasting sign of the white stuff.
I’m ready for winter. I have the snow tires on my Alliston-manufactured road sedan, Mike the mechanic has checked it from hood to trunk, the synthetic oil changed and all of my fluid levels topped up.
At home, I’ve changed the filter in my furnace so things don’t get too dusty, taken my winter coat from the hall closet to just inside the front door and fetched my snow boots from the basement.
The snow shovel(s) will soon come out of the garage. I’m tempting fate leaving the shovel(s) there this far into November.
But there’s no winter.
Granted, I don’t really miss shovelling snow from my sidewalk and driveway, or having to drive any distance on snowy roads, with those blinding cross winds when the tree line gets backed up too far from the highway (usually on Highway 11, between Barrie and Orillia, or on the racetrack known as the 400, between here and the Greater Toronto Area).
What I miss about no snow is mostly its presence.
I’m probably so conditioned to it being there that it’s just weird without the site stuff.
And yes, I like a white Christmas. It’s nice to wake up on Dec. 25 and see everything covered in snow, especially the trees (although I usually have to drive some distance on Christmas Day, so I curse at too much snow).
But when I complain about a green Christmas, one of my sisters says ‘didn’t Christmas come anyway?’ Well, yes, point made.
Snow always brings back memories, however, and usually good ones.
Teaching my daughter how to skate at the Shear Park rink, her snow pants stuffed with hockey socks in case she sat down too hard on the rutted ice.
Getting knocked over by my son on his flying saucer at the bottom of the Sunnidale Park toboggan hill, but keeping him out of the nearby creek, before all the fun was landscaped out of the landing area.
Even taking my grandson for his first wobbly Bob-skate last winter at a snowy Toronto outdoor rink, which lasted about 10 minutes. I have yet to show him how holding a hockey stick would improve his balance (pending approval from his mother).
I also recall a fun family road hockey game in my brother’s driveway, snow storm and all, one Christmas.
Or my former ball team’s annual January shinny game on frozen Lake Simcoe — the snow coming down as a blizzard, the rink needing to be shovelled every 30 minutes, the chili hot and waiting inside.
None of these memories come without the snow.
But maybe I will just have to get used to it, as climate change continues to warm the planet and alter all that we know, likely irreversibly.
I still hold some hope we'll have real winter, even though it can be a pain on many fronts.
I could look at the long-range forecast from any of the many weather prognosticators out there, but they can neither confirm nor deny what’s coming, in my opinion.
One thing is for sure — if my snow tires weren’t on the car, there would be winter out there.
Guess I will just have to keep checking the skies for snow.
Bob Bruton covers city hall for BarrieToday. A snow storm has yet to cancel a committee or council meeting, especially the ones which go on, it seems, forever.
