There was a time that many people, and some still do, believed there was more than one god and if that's the case then a god for winter must have existed. And, if such a god still exists, I would think it's most likely a he-god rather than a she-god because winter isn't exactly a fair-weather season - nothing cuddly and warm about winter unless, like myself, you've got a very fluffy and soft woman to cuddle up to on those freezing cold days when the temperature drops so low, you have to add some more minus numbers to the bottom of the thermometer. A lot of gods of yesteryear had unpronounceable names and since the god of winter most likely hangs out in the arctic and antarctic regions of the world, especially the northern hemisphere, which is actually populated, I expect unless you can roll a lot of letters off your tongue and make a lot of clicking noises at the same time while doing so, like me, you just won't be able to pronounce his name. So, since that's the case, I've given the winter-god that hangs about New Brunswick a name that's easy to pronounce: I call him Mr. Whitey. And yesterday, Mr. Whitey must have had a very bad day (most likely never received any Valentine cards) or he was having a very bad hair day because our barnyard was covered with loads of white, fluffy dandruff - it took me about 8 hours of steady plowing and shoveling to keep two roof-tops, driveway and walkways clear of the stuff.
Mr. Whitey has apparently taken today off, which is a good thing; gives my old achy bones and muscles a chance to recuperate. Funny thing about yesterday's snowfall, the snowflakes, although not one was identical - they were all heart-shaped - I guess it being valentine's day and all. The snow was up over my knees, approximately 2' deep and if that wasn't bad enough, it was wet and heavy, getting heavier as the day went by, most likely because I was getting weaker - old men like me need our naps. The sun is shining now but like the eye of a hurricane, the lull before the storm, Mr. Whitey is returning tomorrow - geesh, he must still be PO'ed because the snowfall is expected to be about another foot deep.
Perhaps, instead of being angry yesterday, Mr. Whitey was wooing a prospective she-god, because the snow he sprinkled everywhere, like fairy dust, is so beautiful; the landscape everywhere sparkles like glittering diamonds; colours of the prism continually enchanting one's eyes. However, the snowflakes, like authentic jewels, although they tantalizingly shimmer and shine in the light, there's still a coldness, a stigma attached to their beauty. Maybe Mr. Whitey, like a single rose, if he had lavished one enormous snowflake on the she-god of his lecherous eye, it may have made a better impression - seduction by the unusual, not the quantity often sways the heart. Also, if he created a huge single snowflake and deposited it in an unpopulated area, it would have saved me and a lot of others heaping loads of hard work - rather unthoughtful of him I would say.
I moved from Vancouver Island to the base of Green Mountain, New Brunswick about 4 years ago and if I still lived there, I would soon be counting spring blossoms instead of standing almost waist deep in snow. But you know, as nice as all that sounds, if I still resided in Nanaimo, I wouldn't be able to take the time to count blossoms, I'd be waist deep in debt. I'm not looking forward to this evening's snowfall but I do relish my lifestyle now and, Mr. Whitey will soon be seduced by spring's charms and just melt into her arms - cheers, eh!
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