|The scene from my brother's front door Sunday morning.|
I was due to arrive back in Abu Dhabi from a visit back home tonight. However as you can see, there was a giant dumping of snow on my hometown of London, Ontario this weekend. Several times over the weekend officials closed Highway 401, which is how we make the two-hour drive between London and Toronto's Pearson International Airport, and I didn't risk the drive. (More love to Etihad Airways, my favourite carrier in the world. I can say that, because I've flown a little, though never Aeroflot or Ryan Air, thankfully. Anyway, a call, zip, doodle, one small Mastercard charge and I'm flying out Tuesday night)
I have to tell you that while I am here, I'm loving the winter: the crisp, invigorating air, the cool coats and hats, warm cups of hot chocolate, furry slippers, flannel pyjamas, lots of comfort food and just the general cosiness of it all. (I'm not loving having to wear boots everywhere, the instant and unsolvable dry skin issue and of course, the bane of every Canadian woman, "static hair".)
Yet I know my delight at the season is due to my imminent departure from it for sunny, warmer climes. Next week there will be flip flops, and beach yoga, and warm evening breezes across my balcony.
If everyone around me is a little less excited than I am about the white stuff, of course that is because they are going to be in the thick of it for the next six months. And even though I've been gone from Canada for 5.5 years now, I still remember that winter loses its lustre very, very quickly.