In your hands winteris a book with cloud pagesthat snow pearls of love.

The lonely, wistful revisionism of memories is as gratingly repetitive as snow and ice in Canada. I avoid them both at all costs - memories and Canada.

. . .and every native has a story of winter – stories that usually begin, You call this a storm? And grow in the telling like battle tales shared by graying war veterans. It’s a peculiar character flaw to those of us from cold climates that we feel superior to those who have the sense to live elsewhere.

It is in the coldest months that hugs linger snug, and they warm the soul the most.

Coffee is not about having something to drink in cool weather, it's about having something to drink when you are not sleeping

Maybe nature is like you and me. It works like all of us. If the weather changes all the time,then it must be on duty. On this cold day winter has started it's shift therefore let us leave it to do it's job.