Creepy silo at Riverdale Farm, last winter. We haven't had as much snow this year.
It's the last day of January and the February blahs have set in. My heat-seeking Australian father lives on two calendars: one in which the days get longer each day, the others in which the days get shorter. He says the days are getting longer now. It doesn't feel that way. I wake in darkness, come home in darkness. The cold beauty of the North is great if you're watching a documentary on TV with a glass of wine in your hand. If you're living in it, things just start to get bleak: the salty crust on the car door that gets on your just washed black pants, the salty crust on the TTC bus windows that prevent you from seeing civilization. There is awesome beauty in nature during winter, but I'm just not feeling it, or noticing it in the city right now.
I played the Ladyhawke CD when I was washing dishes this afternoon. The music transported me to a happy memory of driving with my husband and son last summer. Not sure where we were exactly, but the days were warm and long and the music took us through sleepy towns in Ontario.
Just get through the next month or so...