The idea of a white Christmas is immortalized in song and the idea is often expressed by my students–including those who lived in climates where a white Christmas would have been a sign of the impending apocalypse. It has never been that important to me, though. I love Winter and I expect the snow at some point in the year. It doesn’t have to arrive on Christmas eve or Christmas day, though.

I can’t recall a white Christmas in recent years. Maybe I am just full of Global Warming hype, but I have often told my students that most of the time the snow only starts to stick around permanently after Christmas. They nodded (not always a sign they understand me, but I usually let it go) and some even pout a little. I guess their image of Canada is one of perpetual Christmas and perpetual Christmas weather.

This year, it had snowed several times before Winter Proper began. Though it showed signs of sticking around–lasting several days a few times, ultimately, the snow disappeared and thoughts of a ski vacation seemed to vanish–not sure how this will play out in the Covid era, but like golf, it might be deemed a safe exercise.

This year, we did in fact get a white Christmas. The landscape is covered in snow and ice and the ditches are littered with cars without snow tires. The shovels are dripping with melted snow and backs and joints not used to the work are tired and achy. On the good side, hot chocolate (Cocoa if you prefer) and other libations feel just that much better in one’s belly as our rosy cheeks regain a more moderate colour. Our new gloves are proven warm and waterproof. Things seem right in the world again. I even have a Perfect Moment to write about.