Lego Advent Calendar Haiku 2021 Day 12

The arcane parade
Trundles down fifth avenue
Menacingly 

 

Snow Place Like Home

The author in a snowsuit in Thompson sometime in 1971 or 1972. 

There's a lot more snow there today. Wear your mittens!

I'm seeing reports on Twitter and Facebook that my old home towns of Flin Flon, Thompson, Leaf Rapids and Cranberry Portage are under siege from snow, with Leaf Rapids in particular getting at least 60 cm of snow with up to 15 cm more on the way by day's end. Winter always came thick and fast in northern Manitoba. I hope everyone's hunkered down with supplies and a good book or two. 

The Winter of My Discontent

Another snowfall, another flat. Thankfully I was giving Sean a ride home - he gave me a big hand changing the tire and captured this annoying moment for posterity. 

The Snow Canoe

Here are Sean and I playing in the backyard sometime in early 1982. I feel like we used to get more snow back then, but of course I'd have to look at the data to be sure.

We moved the canoe from Leaf Rapids to Leduc, but I don't remember if we ever used it in Alberta - certainly not during the winter. 

Lego Advent Calendar Haiku 2014 Day 3

Frosty the Snowman
Freezes still on planet Hoth
Melted by Empire

Earl Trek Into Darkness

I left work at five this evening, prepared for a long, slow, stressful commute, which Edmonton delivered in spades. After about a half hour I'd managed to make it from 105 street to 124 street, cars all around me, most of them wanting to make the same desperate turn at Stony Plain Road I hoped to take. 

Suddenly, sirens crowed behind me. A fire engine was driving against the oncoming traffic, its lights forcing cars to give way. Serendipitiously, I happened to be parked at one of the few gaps in the long windrows, meaning that if I wanted to, I could stealthily pull in behind the fire engine and travel rapidly north on 124 street in its wake, bypassing traffic with none the wiser and perhaps shaving a half hour from my commute. 

Of course that would be a ridiculously irresponsible thing to do, not to mention selfish, so I resisted temptation. I wonder what sort of fine that kind of driving would get you? 

A Question of Fashion

Sylvia is horrified whenever I wear white socks during the winter. She says that it just isn't done. But this seems wrong to me; it seems like the perfect time, because white socks match white snow.

It seems perfectly reasonable to me. It's not like women stop wearing white blouses in the winter time. 

A Rink of Our Own

Today I dressed for work, entered the garage and hit the button to open the door. The door didn't move. I went outside to discover that our driveway pad is a three-inch-thick sheet of glassy ice, suitable for Olympic hockey.

Not only can I not get the car out of the garage, our fridge has broken down, meaning our food supply is rapidly spoiling. Someone please call International Rescue. 

Departure of the Sourdough Sled Team

While this photo was actually shot in the 1970s in northern Manitoba, I thought with a little manipulation it could appear as though it were taken a hundred years earlier, during the Yukon gold rush. In reality, these 20th-century folk are watching a modern-day sled dog race; in my imagination, they're watching their loved ones make a mad break for fortune and glory, searching for gold at the edge of what was then the final frontier. A little film grain, lighting effects and sepia tinting help sell the illusion - I hope!

Manitoba Sunrise

I'm pretty sure my maternal grandmother shot this striking sunset sometime during the late 1960s using some kind of weird large-format film; I only have a few negatives like it in the family collection. (The negative is a square about five cm per side.) The foreground is underexposed, but I love the hues the sun casts over the sky, hills and snow. I hope Grandma didn't hurt her eyes shooting into the sun like this.

Lake Driveway

From Neptune's hairy bosom wept the muck-laden waters of Lake Driveway
Those Aegean tears rose inexorably to creep along the pale cement of Earl's garage
But hale Vulcan looked up from his forge and saw beauteous Sylvia swooning with anxiety
And so granted her lover Earl a boon - the boon of the Vulcan Shuttle Shovel

With sneakers sodden, Earl braved the churning waters, a Scylla of piled snow on one side, Charybdis of packed ice on the other, forming a whirlpool of muddy waves

Again and again the shovel fell to scoop up the brown torrent, then rose to fling it beyond the ice berm that threatened home and thousands of comic books

Cursing his condo association, who assured him that the drain surely wouldn't get blocked again, frustrated Earl bailed and bailed until he bit the dust snow and could bail no more

But merciful Apollo, looking down from his fiery chariot, felt pity for the mortal
And with a wave of his stately hand, eased the sun's radiance, and lo the pace of melting did slow
And Earl, looking up from his snow-encrusted slumber, saw that the waters were receding.

With muttered thanks to all the gods he didn't believe in, Earl trod soddenly home, hung up Vulcan's mud-stained shovel, and retired to his blog. 

Springtime in Edmonton

Laddie Come Home

Everyone that knows me knows I'm not a dog person. I'm deathly allergic to them, and the barking and sharp teeth make me a little (well, a lot) nervous. I completely recognize that my fear of dogs is irrational, but despite my best efforts I've failed to warm up to man's best friend. It's a failing that's caused me a great deal of guilt and discomfort over the years. In a way, it's sort of like not enjoying sports; it puts you well outside the mainstream. Many of my friends love dogs and other pets, including my wife, and I'm more grateful than I can say for the patience they've shown regarding my unfortunate phobia.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, I encountered a number of dogs on the campaign trail when I ran for provincial office back in 2008. Most of the time there were no problems, but at one doorstep the homeowner allowed his massive dog - a creature taller than I was - to leap up onto my chest, wrap its claws around my neck and drag its tongue all over my throat and face. I'm surprised to this day that I didn't suffer a panic attack, but my politician's mask remained in place; I used one hand to pet the slobbering canine while offering my campaign literature in the other. My heart didn't really start to race until I moved on to the next house, but I'm sure I didn't earn the dog owner's vote. While I remained calm, I'm sure he could tell that my affection for his pet was a little forced. I'm afraid I did the already soiled reputation of the political class no favours that day, coming across as just another insincere glad-hander willing to do anything for a vote. To be fair, though, as much as I wanted his vote, I was just as concerned with not hurting his feelings; I've learned that a lot of people take it very personally when you don't like their pets.

Despite my hangup, I can certainly appreciate why most people like dogs; they're affectionate, they can be trained to perform simple tasks and many of them are quite handsome, including Laddie, the Etsell family dog pictured above. Laddie died before I was born, or at least before I was old enough to remember him, but Mom certainly speaks of him with great affection. Despite my discomfort around dogs, I find this image quite peaceful. Laddie seems at ease, enjoying the sunrise (or perhaps the sunset), secure in the knowledge that his family loves him. And that's the whole point, isn't it? I've never wanted a pet, but I'm very glad that dogs and cats and so many other creatures bring joy to countless people around the world every day. The world would be a colder place without them; just imagine how bleak the wintry scene above would seem without Laddie's calming presence.

December Frost

It's not even winter yet
Yet here I stand among the frosted trees
Trees weighed down with skins of ice
Ice blanketing snow
Snow blanketing earth
Earth leaning back languidly
Languidly condemning us to five more months of yuck.

The Near Miss

On November 12, Sylvia and I drove to Tim Horton's for drinks. On our way back, travelling south on 178th street just north of the 98th avenue intersection, we began to slow for that intersection's red light. I try to maintain situational awareness at all times while I'm driving - checking my mirrors, glancing around as much as possible - so I don't like to say that another vehicle "came out of nowhere."

But the white sedan that suddenly screeched by on our right hand side certainly seemed to come out of nowhere. It was going far too quickly to avoid rear-ending the last of the vehicles waiting at the light, and I grimaced, expecting the worst.

The driver veered onto the snow-covered median. His momentum was so great that despite the piled snow he plowed down the length of the median, six or seven car lengths, popping off the end and into the intersection, swerving right, cutting off the first car lined up at the light. He then nonchalantly drove west on 98th avenue as if nothing had happened.

It was either an impressive (if reckless) feat of automotive skill or profoundly lucky happenstance. Either way, I'm grateful and somewhat dumbfounded that no one was hurt. Stay careful out there.

Manitoba Gothic

Mom and Dad, sometime in the late 60s on the old Etsell farm near Virden, Manitoba. Boy those were cold winters..!

Purple Datsun Quest

I loved growing up in northern Manitoba, but sometimes winter up there in the 1970s got to be a little much. When you're at the edge of civilization with only two television channels and the temperature drops to minus 50, greener pastures start to look pretty good.

We owned the purple Datsun for a brief time while living in Leaf Rapids, but the poor little car couldn't handle the weather, at least according to these photos and my hazy memories. Back then we needed frost shields for the windows because in-car heaters of the era simply couldn't keep the windows clear of ice. It looks as though the front grilles were covered as well, presumably to keep cold air from freezing the block in transit.

Humans shared the town with bears, ravens, timber wolves (one chased me to school one day) and a multitude of voracious insects. Despite what the poster claims I never did see a UFO or a robot (save a few Micronauts toys), but I did imagine a Sasquatch once. Or did I..?

The poster was really just an excuse to play with layers, fonts, blending options and the custom shape tool. I now have a custom Manitoba outline in my library, which I'm sure will come in handy again.

Winter Blunderland

Having lived in northern Manitoba for a decade, I don't complain about Alberta winters very often; even at their worst, they're relatively mild compared to what I'm used to. But today was pretty grim, not because of the cold (it was only minus 12 or so), but the snow. Our new home exists in a cul-de-sac, and my car barely made it into our condo complex entrance, and getting to the garage was an even greater struggle. It doesn't really look so bad in the video, but I very nearly got stuck out there in the dark. Good thing home was only a few steps away.