It's about ten thousand degrees below zero here in Ottawa. I keep waiting for the Night King and his army of White Walkers to come in "just to warm up."
But here in my kitchen, it's warm and cozy. I'm sipping on what's left of a Stanners Vineyard 2016 Riesling (PEC), its sharp, green-apple tang and zesty feel making me think of spring. Eventually. We'll get there. (By the way, I only have one bottle left of Stanners' 2016 Pinot Gris cuivré, all salmon-y and copper-coloured with a bit of effervescence on the tongue. Pity, they're all sold out.)
Winter is, by far, much preferred to the oppressive swelter of mid-summer. As the Doodle put it so eloquently, "when it's cold out, just put on more layers until you're warm. When it's hot, well ... you can only get so naked." Wise words.
Some refer to this day as Blue Monday. But let's be honest, that kind of a day belongs firmly in November, where the days start getting shorter and colder, the leaves have all fallen off the trees, it's not quite cold enough for snow so this wretched, soul-sucking rain keeps falling. The clocks go back an hour, and we all cry when 4:30 p.m. hits and it's dark as midnight outside. Then come the endless stretches of that melancholic, grey misery of "overcast", usually supplemented by freezing drizzle or wet, sloppy snow. Or raging blizzards that make me want to burrow ever-deeper into a state of human hibernation.
January? We've made it to the new year. Sure, it's cold as hell, but the days have started getting longer. The sky is bright, clear, baby-blue, and the sun dazzles. Every extra second of that glorious light is cherished as it lingers later and later into each day. There is hope.
Keep on keeping on, Ottawa. It won't be winter forever.
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