Travel does not appeal to us in these uncertain days. And I have
to say, we are enjoying our first “winter” here in Nova Scotia. Seventeen
degrees Celsius on Christmas day was not hard to take. It was the first time we
have ventured out in our convertible with the roof down in late December. And
wine on our riparian deck on New Year’s Day was a pleasure too.
Yes, we’ve had snow. But not much. Yes, it’s been grey and
chilly. But not always and certainly not like the minus 30 Celsius we
frequently experienced at our former home in Ontario. Minus 7 we can take, even
minus 20 will seem like a salve.
It is now mid-January. Our lawn is green. Our decks are
clear. The wood pile is disappearing very slowly. We’ve enjoyed several pleasant
walks in parks and on trails or just around our little village here in
Granville Ferry.
But, I can assure you, we are not lulled into a false expectation of an easy winter.
Cold will come. Snow will come. But the daylight is already growing longer and
stronger. Stew bubbles on the stove. The fire burns warmly in our livingroom. The
house is snug. And the view is always engaging and often invigorating.
Despite Covid, I stand looking out at walkers-by as I
practice the fiddle. John finds comfort in his little art studio nestled at the
back of the house. The telephone rings: an invitation to a socially distanced
dinner. A call from old and dear friends comes from Germany on WhatsApp, and
from friends in Cuba who are missing us. A letter arrives from England six weeks late. There
are cocktails on Zoom with former colleagues. And regular emails from friends
near and far reaching out to us and we to them on our computer monitors each
morning.
We acknowledge our good fortune every day.
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