Where Did All the Snow Go?

You know, I supposedly live in a country of igloos and year-round snowsuits (not true, but it makes for interesting assumptions).  Still, you would think there would at least be some snow by this time of the year.  Of course, I live in a part of Canada that's farther south than most of the Canada-US border, which means our temperatures are a bit higher.  We are still supposed to get winter, but it seems that these days we only get it every few years.

It makes me wonder how people get into the so-called Christmas spirit in areas of the world where they never get snow, but that's because I associate Christmas with snow.  It's kind of hard not to, seeing as I grew up in a place that was occasionally known to have five or six of feet of snow on the ground by that time.  This was up in the Muskoka region - otherwise known as cottage country.  It's only about 350 kilometres north of here, but the latitude makes a difference.  The weather has changed there, too, however.  I don't think anyone gets as much snow (on average) as they used to.  I'm sure it has everything to do with global warming, but if I were relying solely on the amount of annual snowfall as a guide to how bad global warming is, I'd be terrified.

I doubt very much that snowfall, or lack thereof, is an accurate measure, but I'm sure there's an equation in there somewhere that might apply.  Why isn't everyone thinking this?  I know the sea level has to be rising, because people who have homes on the coast are finding their houses a lot closer to the shorelines these days.  Particularly up in places like Nunavut.  This, at least, is something measurable.  Lack of snow could mean anything.  I'm sure it's also related to loss of the rain forests, too, seeing as the rain forest creates most of the rainfall on the planet.  I'm guessing that goes for other forms of precipitation as well, the form being determined by the temperature at whatever altitude the moisture is gathering.

Before I say anything else, I'd better mention that I'm not particularly knowledgeable about the weather.  I know what it feels like, I've been through an F4 tornado, and I know my general impressions of living with the weather we have, just like anyone else.  I know only a small amount of the science behind it.  A little knowledge can be a dangerous thing, so I may be spouting off totally inaccurate ideas, mixed with wild conjecture (it wouldn't be the first time), so don't take me too seriously.  I only know that it feels like we're losing winter here.  I have to wonder if that's what is really happening, or if it's just a mild winter that will go back to freezing my toes off next year.

The thing is, I like winter.  No, I'm not really an outdoorsy person, although I know a fair bit about survival in harsh conditions.  I've been hiking and camping in the mountains, and I mean the real camping with tents and nothing powered by electricity - the kind where you hike out your trash and have a gigantic pack on your back that threatens to carry you back down the same mountain you're struggling to climb.  Given my druthers, as the saying goes, I'd rather be at home where it's warm...and there are no bears where I have to worry because it's 'that time of the month'.  I like winter in the way that it feels cozy to be indoors, and the snow is an insulating blanket, muffling the intrusive world.  It's like having the perfect excuse to play hooky, whether you actually need to or not.

As a kid I lived way out in the boonies.  We were 26 kilometres from town.  Even our driveway was a quarter of a mile long, and it had to be plowed if we were going to leave the property at all.  We had power outages, we'd get snowed in, you name it.  It's one of the very few things I remember liking about my childhood.  Nearly everything else was a nightmare, but that sense of isolation was awesome.  You grow up very self-reliant, knowing you're likely to be cut off from the rest of the world.  You learn things you'd never know if you'd lived your whole life in a city or town.  We had everything we needed right there.  We raised chickens and rabbits for meat and eggs.  We had a big vegetable garden.  We had choke cherry trees, and there was a cellar full of homemade choke cherry wine.  Our water came from a well, and it tasted great.  I guess that's why I can't stand water now.  Not even bottled water compares to the purity of the water we had on the farm.

Refrigeration was the one thing we really needed electricity for, and in the winter even that wasn't necessary.  Food could be kept in the breezeway so it wouldn't spoil.  Even in the summer I'm sure we could have stored a food pouch in the well water or something.  It stays really cold.  It's how things were done a hundred years ago, and worked out pretty well at the time.  We had a wood stove that we could cook on if it became necessary, and then there was the big fireplace.  Surrounded by trees there was no shortage of fuel.

Maybe I liked being out in the country so much because it was obvious my grandmother didn't.  She was a woman born in the wrong time, and she was miserable because of it.  Miserable to live with, too.  I think she felt like she was missing out on having any fun, or having a life of any kind, because she was stuck out in the middle of nowhere.  For me it felt like a reprieve from the rest of the world, and I'm sure that was partly due to the fact that I didn't get to spend much time at home.  (That's probably why I'm such a homebody now.)  My life was spent traveling from one activity to the next, and I was often gone from 5:30 in the morning, until 9 o'clock at night, and then it was time for bed.  Being able to spend time at home usually meant having playtime for once, rather than training or practicing or competing

The times of my life where I wasn't in the middle of a huge number of activities, were usually spent traveling throughout Canada and the US.  Again, it's probably why I'm not into traveling.  I associate those kinds of vacations with nothing but misery, and misery did not enjoy company in this instance - the company being my very cranky and abusive grandparents.  Vacations away from home involve all kinds of headaches, especially where children are part of the equation.  I can picture going on vacation with my daughter now, because she's an adult.  I don't have to hold her hand to make sure she doesn't run away, while trying to carry three suitcases and check into a hotel at the same time.  Now she can carry her own damn suitcase.  She can even use it to whack predators over the head should they be so inclined as to attempt to carry her off.

Maybe the question isn't really about the snow, but to me it is.  I want the damn snow back the way it used to be.  I want the days where hot chocolate, a good book and a blanket, are what will make me happiest in the world.  Oh, wait!  That's still true.  Except, of course, now I have two furry little ferrets to snuggle up with me, assuming they're in the mood to do so.  In other words, even if I've lost the big winter snows, I've actually gained something even better.  Not only do I know what makes me happy and contented, I have it in ready supply and it isn't dependent on the temperature outside.  Still, I'm moving back up north the first chance I get.