I miss real winter

I love winter. Always have. Always will.

I'm talking about real winter, of course. Not this rainy, grey, wet non-season that passes for winter in Vancouver.

"At least you don't have to shovel rain," people here are fond of saying. What kind of consolation is that? I love shoveling snow. I would shovel snow all day if I could.

Vancouverites also like to compensate for their non-existent winter by bragging about how you can ski, golf and sail all on the same day. While this is technically true, I don't know anyone who actually does this.

I'd take a blizzard over rain any day. There is nothing more beautiful than snow. I love the way it softens edges and muffles sound. Real winter is supposed to be harsh, bleak and desolate. The colder it is, the happier I am. Maybe I have reverse seasonal affective disorder.

At least Vancouver is close to the mountains where, if you get up high enough, the rain is replaced by snow. Although, there's something unnatural about driving out of a city where the grass is green and arriving in a winter wonderland a mere 20 minutes later. Downtown Vancouver and Cypress Mountain are less than 15 kilometres apart but they feel like two different worlds.


So while it looks like spring from below, it looks like winter from above. Two seasons for the price of one. Weird, huh?


I took these photos last weekend. And while the scenery up on Cypress was spectacular, something about it just didn't feel authentic. It took me a while to figure out what the problem was . . . it wasn't cold enough.

I guess you can take the girl out of Ontario but you can't take the Ontario out of the girl. I miss real winter.