I just can’t wait for winter

That warm glow on your back. The soothing splash of an afternoon dip. The insatiable hunger for more warmth, more sunlight, more sand nestled in the nooks and crannies of one’s body only summer can find.

Ugh. Hate it.

I just can’t wait for winter. Sorry to douse the fire of this waning season, but a Vancouver summer just isn’t for me. It’s no Caribbean here, no Coastal California, no Cuba. Woah, all the hot spots start with c. That’s crazy, cuckoo, cockney, criminal! And you know what, all the cold places start with i. Bear with my nonsense, please. Please! Iceland, Iqaluit, Ireland (it’s a stretch, I know). It’s basically the coldest letter of them all. That’s why the tribble (the dot over the i) broke off. The whole letter’s an iceberg and the tribble broke away, pushing grammar climatologists to challenge the world over textual climate change. I see that you bore with my nonsense. Well done. It’s quite a lot of nonsense to bear with. It’s like the Great Pacific Garbage Patch of nonsense.

The weather! I’m talking about the weather. Look at me, all cliché-talking about the weather.

“It’s going to rain today, Cletus. I can feel it in my cheeks.”

“Me too, Durnum. I got that tingling in my wenus.”

I’m sorry to all you meteorologists, but that’s what comes to mind when I think of the weather, glass-eyed, buck-toothed farmers on their porch comparing their various meteorologically useful body parts.  One of the most beautiful things about Vancouver is its winter. It’s like New York in that way, or Paris in the rain. But Vancouver is gorgeous in a good winter. The snow tucks the city into a cozy dream. Walk down Granville Street on a chilly day in a scarf and sweater. It’s a wonderland.

I just realized that the now blatantly obvious burning deserts of Iraq, Iran and Israel crush my “cold countries start with i” argument. So much for being a whimsical scholar of the absurd.

I know this post will get a lot of shifty eyes, a lot of people turning their heads and squinting at the screen, mouthing “What?” to their computers. It’s because winter’s not such a hot topic in this town. I’m a bit of a loner on the whole “loving winter” thing.

“But Evan, what about the last few Vancouver winters? The ones where rain stuck around like a talkative uncle, where snow was as unpredictable as a badminton match in a hurricane. Surely you couldn’t have loved those?

Sadly, this is true. The last couple winters, for a seasonal connoisseur as myself, were awful. Slush lay unwanted in street drains, shoes held the water only aquariums should and the air stung like a Jack Frost bee. Definitely not Whoville. So that’s why I’ll tell you here, keep your hopes up for a beautiful Vancouver winter, because it could very well happen, and if it does, it’ll be magical. I guarantee it.