No flowers, no leaves, no birds, NOVEMBER.
After Christmas I start grimly singing my dubious favorite winter jingle. The lyrics by Gilles Vigneault in 1964 say it all:
"Mon pays, ce n'est pas un pays, c'est l'hiver"
(My country isn't a country, it's winter.)
photo courtesy of Gerry Walker
As you well know from the theme of this blogspot, I prefer to escape winter and hang out where it's warm and sunny for those early months of the year. Life's expectations called me back from denial and I have spent the past three weeks facing the realities of being Canadian. What perfect timing!
The newest grandson smiled and laughed for me.
The almost 4 years old granddaughter took us skiing. (Wasn't it just yesterday we were teaching her Daddy to ski?)
Canada's sweethearts won gold in Ice Dancing for the very first time. A long over-due affirmation for the talent and hard work of previous deserving athletes.
I really wanted the red jersey, but at $149.00, I gave it a pass.
At another time, in a land far away, I would have missed these joys. Thank you, Canada, my home and native land, for these special gifts