An ice storm was forecast. Freezing rain followed by snow and dropping temperatures was expected. Power outages were a possibility. We missed a bullet, an icy bullet. The winter storm failed to materialize. And that was wonderful as the roads in my neighbourhood are still snow-dusted and slippery with frozen slush from the last winter blast.
There were lots of questions surrounding Halloween. No one seemed to know if it would even happen. Would children want to go from home to home trick and treating? Would homeowners be willing to open their doors to costumed children?
The answer was not a resounding yes but it was mostly positive. Blue masks were worn on top of Halloween masks and social distancing was practised by all. Some homeowners put candy in a bag, stuck the bag on the end of something like a hockey stick and awarded the brave children while maintaining a safe distance.
Hopefully, 2021 will not be a repeat. Surely, we will all be vaccinated by fall.
No shopping. No dining. Even going to the park is frowned upon. But kids just gotta get outside and my youngest granddaughter did just that. She went sledding on the small slope across from our London home.
She had fun and I got tested. Now, I am sure I do not have osteoporosis. Despite my age, my bones are fine. The slope was damn slippery, and yes that is the correct use of the word damn. Down I went. Spread-eagled. A slow check of all my limbs revealed nothing amiss. No broken bones. I got a pass.
Immediately afterwards I got a hot chocolate. My granddaughter didn't think I should play any longer on the hill. I take too many risks. I could get hurt. She took me home.
How do you spell optimism? Me, I spell it B-o-l-e-r M-o-u-n-t-a-i-n. Why? The province is in the middle of an almost complete lockdown to check the soaring number of covid-19 cases and what is Boler Mountain doing? Making snow. Boler believes it will open soon and the staff is busy making snow in order to be ready for the anticipated crowds of mask-wearing skiers.
Yup. That's optimism.
Huge expanses of unbroken snow don't last long in the city. And no it's not kids playing in the snow who are leaving the tracks. It's wildlife. Getting about in winter can be hard for small animals, especially when the snow is deep. So, the first animal to pass makes the path and the following critters deepen and widen the now preferred route.
Sadly, our natural world is shrinking. According to the BBC, "Wildlife populations have fallen by more than two-thirds in less than 50 years." The tracks, so common in the wild sections of the city, are signs of hope alerting us to the fact that we share our world.
Under all that snow there's life. Lot's of life. Squirrels, rabbits possibly even a fox or two. And of course there are birds. All are protected from the harshest cold by the warm blanket of snow. It insulates and keeps the cold arctic wind at bay. It even provides clean water for the wintering wildlife.
How do we know for certain that there is life under the deep snow and sagging tree limbs? Footprints. Lots and lots of footprints left by little animals scampering here and scampering there.
Canada is a land of immigrants. Even families like mine with supposedly deep family roots going back decades, even centuries, are relative newcomers, Unless you are an indigenous Canadian, you are a newbie.
At Christmas one of our neighbours, a lovely lady originally from Turkey, makes baklava and shares it with friends and relatives. This year she sent her daughter to our home with a plate of Turkish sweets.
Baklava is the sweet on the right. It is made from thin layers of phyllo pastry separated by coarsely chopped nuts in a thick syrup with a honey-base. I'm not sure what is on the left but it might be maamoul, a type of date-filled cookie. Our neighbour's version is coated with icing sugar and flaked coconut.
Is baklava a Turkish dessert? Today yes but it may have originated in Greece. At least, that is the story according to many Greeks. But keep digging and you will find claims piled on claims until, if you dig deep enough and go back far enough, you might find your search ending in Assyria in the 8th century B.C.
As for the maamoul, it may have originated with the Phoenicians although the Egyptians often take credit.
What can we learn from a plate of cookies? Well, that our world is place in flux. What you consider "your culture" may just be "something borrowed."
