The Lighthouse

the lighthouse

25 January 2010

The lingering party guest and the exquisite vision

This is the sad time of winter; it becomes the guest who wont leave though the party is long over except for gathering empty bottles and dumping overflowing ashtrays. (Scratch that: gathering empty bottles and cleaning up the Party Mix ground into the upstairs carpet - nobody smokes anymore.)

The snow left behind is a sad, wet and dirty, shrunken version of its former picture postcard perfection. The first rounds of deep freeze and thaw are behind us, and now every blue-sky day makes us impatient for full-on spring. I've changed my desktop wallpaper to a sun saturated vase of tulips which makes it very hard to remember that it is only January yet and I do still live in Canada. Even here in SOHOE, winter will linger for at least another month. This coming stretch requires endurance or else insanity will set in - of the variety known as cabin fever.

I pulled back the curtains this morning to a world made mysterious (ie. invisible) by grey mist. Then the pouring rain of yesterday took up where it left off, shrinking the snow even more, and generally imparting a mood of forlorn dejection. A walk was in order, however, and as I enjoy a walk in the rain, I equipped myself with a brolly and hied myelf out of doors... to blow the stink of me (catch the quote?) Only it stopped raining as I stepped out, putting a period to my vision of self dressed with jaunty cap on head, trouser legs rolled up, and adorable pink umbrella held at a perky angle overhead. Bother. Undeterred, I carried out my plan, not wanting to disappoint the neighbours.

It's lovely, walking through the rain-washed world. It is subdued and thinly populated, so those of us brave enough to sample it have the sensation of it being purely for our own pleasure. Today it was especially enjoyable because I know the obtuse party guest, Winter, is still hanging around. During the time it has taken me to write this, our soft and moisty day has become cold and wind-torn. More snow is on the way as winter lingers on. Nothing exquisite about that vision.

1 comment:

  1. This is the time of year I struggle with the most. The grey days. The grey snow. The rain, freezing rain, fog, cloudy, dreary days of winter. Even the noise is different. It's louder, it echos oddly and the sounds crash about in my head leaving me disoriented and head-achy.

    This is the time of year when I long for a blizzard of epic proportions. Anything that will cover the grey with pristine white. Anything that will cover the noise of January with the sweet, muffled sounds of a true Canadian winter.

    WVW: redgetiz (Something you say when Carly (AKA Red) gets it.)