According to Latvian legend, at the winter solstice a horse brings light and wisdom to the earth for the coming year. I think this ice sculpture eloquently captures this theme.
In case you’re wondering about the Latvian connection, the Latvian embassy donated this to Winterlude.
I like this legend. I’m looking forward to more light over the coming months, and I can always use more wisdom.
If it’s cloudy when the groundhog emerges from its burrow on February 2nd, spring will come early. On the other hand, if it’s sunny, and the groundhog sees its shadow, we will have six more weeks of winter. Or so the story goes.
There are so many things wrong with this story that I don’t know where to begin.
Let’s skip over the fact that this groundhog looks suspiciously un-groundhog-like and start with six more weeks of winter. Of course there are going to be six more weeks of winter. For heavens sake, it’s the beginning of February. It would be a minor miracle if there were *only* six more weeks of winter. Eight is more likely, and ten is a distinct possibility. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that this particular story originated in a climate much closer to where rocket scientists typically live.
To put things in perspective, where I live this is what it typically looks like on Groundhog Day.
Which brings us to another problem. Do you really think any groundhog equipped to survive the evolutionary lottery is about to come out of its burrow on a day like this? I don’t either.
With a story this confused, the only sensible (or perhaps foolish) thing to do is to go skating on a good old fashioned (for Canada) outdoor skating rink. By the way, the sun had long since set, so the groundhog didn’t see its shadow. Spring will come early.
Obviously I don’t mean that literally. Life in this climate gives you many things, but a freshly picked lemon is not one of them. Unfortunately it just doesn’t have the same ring to it when you say “if life gives you snow, ice, and cold, then you might as well have a winter carnival”. But snow and ice and cold is exactly what Ottawa has this time of year. So every February it hosts a celebration called Winterlude, complete with ice sculptures, music, and other festivities.
Sunshine is an interesting thing. Take a moderately cold day with overcast skies and it’s enough to make you want to curl up in front of the fire with a good book and a glass of wine. Not that I’m suggesting there’s anything wrong with curling up in front of the fire with a good book and a glass of wine, mind you. But even if it is ten or twenty degrees colder, bright sunshine changes everything. It lifts your spirits. Add a bit of rhythm and before you know it everyone is having a great time. Thought it be fair, warm clothing helps a lot.
No discussion of winter in Ottawa would be complete without a picture of the canal, so I will include … wait for it … a picture of skaters on the canal.
I love fruitcake. There, I’ve said it.
Not just any fruitcake, mind you. I mean really good fruitcake. Preferably homemade fruitcake that has been properly aged. By now you probably think I’m a fruitcake.
You may also be wondering why I’m writing about fruitcake – Christmas cake, if you will – on the second last day of January. Good question. The answer, of course, is that it’s time to put the fruitcake in my wine cellar so that it will be properly aged come November.
This is one of those interesting facts – equal parts fascinating and disturbing. You take a freshly baked cake without any preservatives at all, and store it for the better part of a year at room temperature, and then … you eat it? And it tastes better than when it was fresh? Seriously?
To be fair, when I said “no preservatives” I wasn’t quite telling the truth. I meant no artificial preservatives. It turns out the sugar in candied fruit, and the alcohol you brush it with are both wonderful preservatives. As guilty pleasures go, I suppose it isn’t all that bad.
Just don’t get me started on cinnamon buns…
Fire.
The glowing embers of a dying fire are endlessly fascinating, evoking almost primaeval emotions. Time stands still as you watch the flames slowly dance over the hot coals, the soft light and gentle warmth surrounding you.
Ice, on the other hand…
… is quite a different beast. Brilliant harsh crystals smothering trees like a heavy coat. Yet it doesn’t provide warmth, only a crushing weight that can snap mature trees like dry twigs. Why is it that both fascinate us?
No doubt the trees do not share our perspective.
Two very different things. And yet, they have a surprising amount in common. Both can be severe, even deadly, or incredibly beautiful. Context is everything. Both can be an endless source of amusement for children. Put a child in an empty room, or on a bare filed of grass, and they will be instantly bored. But give that same child a pile of sand, or a snow bank, and they will be amused for hours. Sand castles and snow forts both hold the same fascination.
It is pretty much the same for adults, whether it be soaking up the sun or enjoying winter sports. But only in moderate doses. One of the best thing about a day in the desert is stepping into your air conditioned car or house. And of course, after a brisk walk in the cold, the fireplace is awfully appealing.
I really do love both sand and snow, but right about now, I could use a little more sand…
When we travel we see the world through a different lens. It makes everything look new and exciting, because, well… we are seeing things that are new and exciting. But I also enjoy viewing the everyday world through those same eyes. I try to see things the way a traveler, or perhaps a child, would see them. Preferably one who had never been here before, and might never be able to return. One who had only heard stories of this strange landscape, but never imagined they would see it with their own eyes.
Which brings me to a footprint in the snow. Not the kind of snow that brings joy to children for a day or two and then quietly vanishes leaving nothing but green grass and flowers behind. I’m talking about serious snow. Cold snow. It has a very distinctive sound when you walk on it. Some people describe it as “walking on Corn Flakes” but that isn’t quite right. (Not that I’ve tried walking on Corn Flakes lately, but you know what I mean.) When snow gets very cold it has a “crunch” but it also has a certain “squeak” to it. A bit like the sound of a clown making balloon animals, or perhaps like twisting Styrofoam. You could also describe it as a combination of all three. Or you could just say it is the sound of snow. Hear it once and you will never forget it, and you will know exactly what I mean.
Today was one of those days. Sunny and cold. And when it’s that cold the air is dense, making everything sound crisp and pure. The snow had that familiar crunch. The sound almost assaults your ears. I love it.
I don’t always succeed, but I try to see the world that way as often as I can.
This weekend I went skating outdoors on the canal in Ottawa. It was not the first time that I went skating outdoors this season. Ironically, the first time was in November, in San Jose, and it was positively warm.
This was ironic on so many levels. Not only was it well above freezing, in California, but the outdoor rink was sponsored by none other than Hawaiian Airlines. Can anyone tell me exactly why Hawaiian Airlines would want to advertise by sponsoring an outdoor skating rink in San Jose? I must be missing something here.
And the final irony – right next to the outdoor skating rink we had …
Ya gotta love California.
The Rideau canal runs through the center of Ottawa. It was built in the 19th century for defense. Today it carries pleasure boats in the summer, and skaters in the winter. I sometimes imagine trying to explain this to the people who worked and died in the mosquito infested swamps toiling to build the canal. One can only imagine their bewilderment.
It was cold this weekend. Minus 20 with a moderate wind that made it feel significantly colder. This was a good thing, and a bad thing. Bad, because … well … it was cold. But good because the ice was “fast” with very few skaters. On a warm sunny day the canal can be wall-to-wall with skaters.
The Rideau canal is billed as the world’s longest skating rink. I’m not sure if that is true, but it is fair to say that it is long. And of course, when you get to the end, you have to skate back. Into the wind. Fortunately there are a number of food stands along the canal where you can try a local treat. Deep fried pastry, brushed with butter and sprinkled with cinnamon sugar. It’s called a “Beavertail” because it’s shaped like – wait for it – a beaver’s tail. They are not exactly low-cal, but with the skating and the cold you easily burn enough calories to come out ahead. To be completely honest, it is the real reason to go skating on the canal.
I’ll close with a picture of a different sort of graffiti, carved into the snow and ice lining the walls of the canal. Come spring, it will be gone without a trace.
When I cook, I drink wine and listen to music, especially by musicians I’ve recently added to my “modest” music collection. I’m enthusiastic about music at the best of times, but even more so about my latest discoveries. And that’s how Passenger came up over dinner this past weekend. On a whim, Jan checked into concerts, and found Passenger is on tour, with two local shows … sold out shows. But tickets were still available for the concert in DC, and as luck would have it, I was packing for a trip to, you guessed it, DC. And that’s how last night, less than 48 hours after learning about the show, I found myself listening to Passenger.
It was an amazing show. Good music, self deprecating humor and a stage presence honed by a decade of busking is a dynamite combination. And seeing it all from 20 feet away made it one of the best shows ever.
If It Was Today... 