ONLY 363 DAYS TO CHRISTMAS

Christmas is over and so is Boxing Day - dang- I missed out on the biggest sale of the year!  Don't you just love it when you receive a Boxing Day flyer giving the sale price of what you're about to purchase for a Christmas present while you stand in an endless line of jostling people loaded down with gifts, waiting their turn at the cash register, and the price is 50% less.  I like the booze store best - doesn't matter what day it is, even if the line to the cash register is a little longer than usual, the price is always the same.

As I look out my studio window, a full-blown blizzard is taking place. The ravaging storm, at times, is swirling, twirling and whirling the snow round and round at a furiuos pace, and earlier, when I pushed my way through the deep drifts from the house to the studio, it actually curled my hair, such is its intesity.  Many years have passed since I was in a snow blizzrd.  Even though the wind outside is howling, screaming sometimes even whistling through the cracks and down the chimney and the thick snow is mostly flying horizontally, it's not as severe as the one I experienced while driving down the highway near Prince George, BC with my mother one winter night.  I haven't seen a whiteout yet today, although the distant ridge has disappeared, but back then on that deserted, treacherous highway, I had to get out of the car and walk a short distance in front, so we wouldn't drive off the deeply-rutted road and over a cliff.

Since we live rather remotely, the power possibly going down at any moment, we've taken some necessary precautions.  The bathtub is filled with water for flushing the toilets and there are a couple of 5 gal. containers filled with drinking water.   The oil lamp and candles are ready to be lit and there are several flashlights on hand.  Also, a lot of firewood is stacked in the enclosed porch just outside the kitchen to feed the hungry woodstove, which keeps us cozy and warm throughout the day and night.  Our house, although quite large, is hardly a mansion but it comes equipped with an electric stove, fridge and most of the other modcoms, so surviving a winter storm is hardly life threatening.  However, since I'm not a mountain man, I'd hate to think what the chances for survival would be if I was in the forest and couldn't find my way out.  Unlike the animals, although even the odds for their survival must be harsh, I'd most likely freeze solid under a big tree before too long.

Although a neighbour plowed the driveway and a good chunk of the yard early this morning, I've shoveled the walkways three times, and from the depth of the snow, which has just fallen within the last hour, it appears that before too long, I'll be out shoveling snow once again.  The cold wind is biting, instantly freezing the moisture of my breath so my mustache gets caked in ice whenever I have to go outside.  Hopefully the freezing blizzard will abate before nightfall otherwise I have no idea how deep the snow will be by tomorrow morning.  One of the locals told me he's seen the snow piled up until it was 17' deep, which is about the height of the building where my art studio is located - I won't be shoveling snow to the studio and woodshed then; I'll be tunneling through the snow instead.

At least it's the time of Ho, Ho, Ho, so the cupboards, fridge and freezer are well-stocked; the booze shelf is loaded (no pun intended). Nothing like waking up in the morning to a hot cup of coffee satisfactorily punctuated with home-made Bailey's.  Also, left-over turkey, stuffing, gravy and all the trimmings is nothing to turn up your nose at either.  Why, we even went to a Christmas event, which was held in a very small church: the seating capacity not much more than 50 people.  The harmonious hymns, the simple prayers, the comedic skit and the general composure of the congenial congregation was quite heartfelt; I hardly felt like a new-comer.   I'm enjoying being snowed in; this old time country Christmas flavour is really refreshing - takes me back to my younger years when life didn't seem so bloody busy and stressful.  We've been playing games, singing carols, visiting with the neighbours; just plain knocking back and enjoying some of the simpler things, which often isn't the case when we were living in the city.  Although there's an abundance of extreme coldness, the warmth I've experienced thus far has not been from the kitchen woodstove but from our friendly neighbours who we just met this past summer.

Time for a hot toddy - cheers - eh!