Snow again

Once again it's snowing. It's become a wry joke here --"Oh--what do you know -- it's snowing!" Exhausted chuckle all round, and then back to the shovels, or snowblowers.

Here's a picture I took the other day, of an abandoned bike. Ironically the high icy snowbank imprisoning the bike is in front of a luxurious wall of Ivy.
It reminds me of one winter semester when I was going to the University of Guelph that I decided to live in the country. I rented a farm with five guys just outside of town. The plan was pitched, I remember as a romantic, Utopian idyll -- back to nature. The guys resembled the men in the movie Knocked Up, only not quite as funny -- a collection of lonely, nerdy guys. Entertainment -- none.
The bedroom I slept in had a thick layer of living cluster flies sandwiched between the ceiling drywall and the rafters. The only heat came from a kerosene heater in the living room, which smelled and smoked. The snow plough failed to arrive on time to clear the long, picturesque lane every other day when we were all trying to get to class, and I was the only cook -- and not a good one. After about a month of freezing to the hum of an orchestra of one million flies, I fled the farm, with a clear resolve never to return.

Say what you want about the city. I do. Complain about city drivers. I do. But I would much rather spend the winter in this town, than down any country lane.

Have a cozy day wherever you are.