Everything I Love: Canadian Winters

When I was younger I measured temperature by a progressively colder scale of: 1) the necessity of a hat; 2) the necessity of a scarf; and 3) whether my nose hair froze. This week's cold snap was decidedly in tier three and my shivering trudge to school became perilous when my tearing eyes caused my lashes to freeze together in the -35 degree wind. I don't subscribe to the cliche that cold weather is part of the Canadian identity - watching displaced Vancouverites in an Ontario February has disabused me of this fallacy - but our winters make the high taxes and black flies worth the stay. Treacherous highways, salt stains, and post-nasal drip aside, winter presents an annual celebration of ice fishing, beaver tails, and toque collections. I may only own blue shirts and khaki pants, but I have seventeen coats and fifty-seven sweaters that protect me in five-degree increments of temperature, and a toque for every sports team and bait shop that I support. If you find yourself complaining about winter over the next couple of weeks, buy yourself a balaclava, go outside, and throw snowballs at stop signs from your snow fort.