Something in the air

Did you ever wonder why some people, some moments, become burned into your memory even if they last only a few seconds--and you are aware of it as it happens--while other faces and events just float away?

Last November, I had one of these "hyper aware" moments, as my friend Jo calls them.

Hubby, daughter and I had taken a spur-of-the-moment trip to the country for the weekend and decided to go for a walk in a provincial park. It was a cold day, cold enough for mittens and hats, but it was beautiful. The leaves had already fallen from the trees and rustled as we kicked them, crunched as we stepped on them. We were having fun teasing each other and trying to tickle DD.

At one point, we stopped at a small lake to read the information on the interpretation signs posted there. Only then did we realize that there were beaver huts and a dam right in front of us. As we studied the lake and noted where the beaver's dwelling was, a group of four people came up the trail and stopped at the same resting area. They appeared to be a family: an older couple in their fifties and a younger couple in their late teens or early twenties. The man began talking to us and told us that there were actually three beaver dwellings in the lake--a fact that he had learned from a park naturalist just the day before. He proceeded to tell us how to discern between an abandoned hut and a lived-in one. Then the woman asked where we were from. When we answered, they kind of looked at each other and I swear I saw a spark fly!

The couple had met in our neighborhood, at a theater that is about a five-minute walk from our house. They were standing in line when the woman approached the man, as yet unknown to her, and asked if he had a dollar to pay her entry to the film. He did, they went, and the rest is history. They have been married for 30 years and have two kids (the young lady and young man who were with them that day). They had only recently bought a home in the small town we were visiting.

The reason these people made such an impression on me can not be found in the words they used or the subjects we spoke of, and I can't quite put a finger on why our interaction seemed important to me. But it did. It has stayed with me as a special moment, something to be remembered.

Perhaps it was simply their kindness. We're not used to people just starting conversations in the city. Maybe it was because they were a family with older children spending a day together and enjoying each other's company. They asked if we needed a recommendation for a restaurant in the area, too, and described several cafés that would serve the hot chocolate we craved. Could such generosity have struck a chord in me?

Again, I can't honestly say. But I know deep down that these are special people, and that they have something to teach us, something to share with us about love, about steadfastness, about kindness and caring for the ones closest to us but also for those we just stumble upon in the forest.

I know I will never forget them.

Where's Winter?

I love winter.

No, really. You don't understand. I loooooooove winter!

I live for the first snowflake of the season. My heart rate rises and I smile idiotically for hours as I kneel on the sofa, parting the sheer curtains with one hand, and gaze at the millions of tiny, individual flakes swirling in the air. I love the carpet of snow that muffles the city noise and sticks to the bottom of my boots. I am totally addicted to checking the weather forecasts from December to April with hope in my heart. And when I read "10 cm expected, " oh, the joy! I even have books on snow. Okay, now do you understand?

So the drama unfolds when we don't have any snow in our typically frigid white wonderland (that is, Montreal). I think I have SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) for the first time. Although SAD, a biochemical imbalance in the hypothalamus, is caused by the decrease in daylight hours, I think that it must be worsened by the lack of snow. I mean, there's no extra white to reflect what little light we have and give off that eerie glow at dusk. With no snow and mostly rain, there's no good reason to go outside in the few daylight hours we do have (not that they're very bright days). What are we going to do, build a rainman? Go puddle hopping in temperatures hovering near freezing (but rarely dipping below that illustrious 0, especially when precipitation is forecasted)?

And now I find myself curiously detached from the activities in my life. I'm just not motivated to go out, to make plans or do anything that requires more effort than crawling from bed to computer (luckily I still have the gumption to work!). Even the holidays were flat for me--a person who usually decorates the house and bakes cookies for my entourage.

I'm blaming Global Warming, El Nino, Stephen Harper, SUVs and anyone or anything that is keeping my precious snow at bay this year.

But then again, maybe there's some kind of conspiracy to rid Montreal of snow... and redirect it to the prairies. Or even Vancouver, where they've gotten more snow than here, for goodness sake!

I've still got hope for some white coverage, but it's diminishing as we get deeper and deeper into "winter" and are still seeing temperatures of 5 degrees. Anybody know a snow dance?