I hate snow.
OK, hate may be a bit strong of a word. How about detest, despise, loathe – feel free to substitute any one of those and you get the general idea of my thoughts on the frozen particles that float down from the heavens.
As a child, I loved the snow – what kid doesn't? Making snow-people (that is the PC name for Frosty's kin) was always a popular pastime. My friends and I would spend who knows how long making an elaborate snow-individual complete with carrot nose etc.
We would stand back and admire our work for about three minutes before smashing it to pieces. I don't know why we did this, but we did, every time.
We were also big on creating snow forts. We had visions of a castle-like structure complete with towers, firing ports for throwing snowballs through and walls so thick they could withstand all but the most aggressive onslaught. What we ended up with was half a dozen huge balls of snow all pushed together in a semi-circle. Not quite a castle, but close enough for our young minds.
Some of us would defend the castle while others attacked. We would then switch sides and the battle would rage until we couldn't feel our toes and a mug of hot chocolate beckoned.
We would also spend hours tobogganing at a nearby hill.
And as I got older, I had the privilege of helping dad shovel the white stuff, but not even that could diminish my enjoyment of the cold, powdered moisture.
When I got my driver's license, snow introduced a whole new world of fun. Sliding cars around an empty parking lot, pulling Rockfords – where you slam on the emergency brake and snap the back end of the car around – was all part of the new found form of winter entertainment.
Gone were the snow-people and snow forts, replaced by motorized mayhem.
Toward the end of the teen years, and for many years following, I never really gave snow much of a thought. It came, it melted, it was gone.
Year after year, the cycle would repeat itself. It is called the changing of the seasons and being in Canada, it happens every year – guaranteed.
But as I age, I find myself disliking the white stuff that was once such a source of enjoyment.
For some reason I have grown almost obsessed with snow removal. As soon as it snows, I must clear the driveway, sidewalk, stairs and any other path I deem needs to be snow free.
That is why the recent massive dump of snow nearly killed me. Not the shovelling part – although that was rather taxing on my aging muscles – but the fact I could not keep the areas snow free that my brain decided needed to be snow free.
Because the snow was falling faster than the hair off my head, no matter how many times I shovelled, the paths were always covered.
So maybe it is a huge dump of snow that I hate.
Perhaps a little snow here, a little there is not so bad.
Hmm, the more I think about it the more I realize, yup, I hate snow. I hate how it freezes your windshield wipers, how it sticks to your boots and gets tracked into the house where it melts into a puddle and you step in it with your sock feet, how it sneaks its way over the top of your hiking boots, how it makes the roads sloppy and slushy, how it – well it could be a long list.
I am definitely a spring, summer and fall kind of guy.
However, having said that, there is one redeeming quality winter has – there are no bugs, specifically there are no spiders.
So I guess winter is not all that bad, except for the cold, and the snow and the...
Copyright 2015 Darren Handschuh