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Season of my discontent
Friday August 29 2008
Tracey Duguay RANDOM PASSAGES
 
I went exploring some country roads last weekend and — gasp — couldn’t help but notice the trees are already starting to change colour. Did they get confused by the wet and cold August? If so, I’m tempted to round up a couple thousand portable heaters and head to the bush to try to turn back time.
It just seems so quick. I’m not ready to say good-bye to summer yet, especially after such a lackluster month. I believe Mother Nature owes us a few more weeks of sunny, warm weather.
Don’t get me wrong, I love autumn; it’s my favourite season by far. Crisp air, blankets of fallen leaves, those still on the trees dancing with spectacular colour.
Is there anything better than taking a walk down a country lane or trail, surrounded by such awe-inspiring beauty, especially if the sun is just warm enough to kiss your face while a comfy sweater and well-worn pair of jeans keeps the rest of you toasty?
But then, Mother Nature’s cantankerous cousin rolls in. Temperatures dip, nostrils freeze and getting dressed to leave the house becomes an Olympic event. It would be an understatement to say I’m not a fan of Old Man Winter.
I almost feel guilty saying this aloud because it’s so…well, un-Canadian. During the winter, I avoid beer, poutine, courteous manners and refrain from adding “eh” at the end of my sentences since I can’t embrace my nationality.
The older I get, the worse it gets. If reincarnation is a possibility, I want to come back as a bear. Let me roam the forest eating blueberries all summer, then tuck me away in a cave to sleep through the season of my discontent.
Part of my winter blahs comes from the fact I hate winter driving. Waking up in the dark to go to work only to be confronted with a blinding snowstorm is not my idea of a good time. And I’ve always lived close to my workplace, unlike many co-workers who commute an hour or so each way. I can’t imagine how they feel those mornings.
If you don’t get a newspaper on certain days this winter, it’s because I’ve decided to use a “mental health day.” In hindsight, perhaps it’s not so smart to write this since my boss will read this column. (“I’m so sorry — cough, cough — I’m just too sick to come into work today. No, it doesn’t have anything to do with the snowstorm, honestly,” she tells her boss in an over-the-top pathetically weak voice.)
To be fair, winter does have its charms. The first snowfall of the season is always pretty; sparkling white crystals slowly falling to the ground. Then there’s the mornings when you wake up after a storm and everything is covered with fresh snow creating an almost blinding winter wonderland.
Even safely ensconced in your home during a storm can be fun. Winds howling, heavy curtains of snow falling, the neighbourhood deserted and quiet, it contains its own fierce beauty.
I’ll have to remind myself to re-read this column at the end of February once reality sinks in. The romance of it all will be forgotten, and I’ll be devising ways to throw Old Man Winter under a snowplow.

Tracey Duguay is managing editor of The Banner. She can be reach at tduguay@orangevillebanner.com.