I live in Southern Alberta y’all (picture below for those who failed geography), which might confuse you since I say y’all constantly. Maybe my heart is in Texas, who knows. Here in Alberta we can have some pretty harsh winters – and every year is the same. Apparently, (according to CBC) the winters here in Alberta are actually getting warmer. Well, that’s news to the fuckin’ lot of us that live here and experience collective amnesia every single winter.
The first snowfall of the winter, after we’ve been gifted with a fall that has seemingly lasted forever, 80% of us forget how to drive and become overwhelmed and perplexed re: the falling white shit from the sky. That first day is mostly fender benders and people going 30 under the speed limit. This is worsened by the segment of the population that apparently doesn’t believe in winter tires.
Every winter we all stand around with our Tim Horton’s and Vancouver Olympic mittens and talk uproariously about how this is, ‘probably the worst winter they’ve experienced since moving here’, how ‘they’ve never seen so much snow’, and how their sister/father/cousin/neighbour/blah bah/blah blah said that they’ve never SEEN roads so bad and that everyone should probably sty home. DON’T TRAVEL IF YOU DON’T NEED TO!! (#godblessvolker) Everyone will yell. And yet, every year is the same. Facebook memories can attest to that. We become so entranced with the summer that will hopefully never end that we protect our delicate physics by convincing ourselves that winter is something we’ve never seen before. And maybe, just maybe that’ll make up for how we act like we’ve never seen snow, we’ve never driven in snow, we don’t know what happens when snow melts a bit and turns to ice.
We even go so far as to become obsessed with weather reports, joining twitter just to feel appraised of all winter situations – even in places we don’t live. We spend entirely too much time looking at images and videos of people driving in winter storms and are shocked to our very core. This place. Where are we? The fucking arctic? No. We’re in the same place we are every year.
Winter: CAN YOU EVEN BELIVE THIS WEATHER? WHY DO WE LIVE HERE? WHY DO WE LIVE SOMEWHERE WHERE THE AIR HURTS OUR FACES?
Summer: Oh this summer is so beautiful would YOU LOOK AT THE MOUNTAINS, look at the GREEN GRASS, look at the birds and the butterflies, my vagina finally feels free in these teeny tiny little shots. PRAISE BE.
Fall: Oh this is ok, not summer but at least I can bust out my little sweaters and toques and wrap my un-mittened hands around a pumpkin spice latte, and talk about chunky knit things and how you just love the wind. Aren’t chinooks a gift from god?
Winter again: WHAT IS THIS HELL? I WOULDN’T HAVE MOVED HERE IF I KNEW THIS WAS GOING TO HAPPEN EVERY YEAR. THIS IS AWFUL. WHY DON’T PEOPLE SHOVEL? WHERE’S MY GOOSE DOWN PARKA. FUCK THIIIIIISSSSS.
And it continues over and over again. And like a trauma, we convince ourselves it never happened and then are surprised when it happens. We’re children really.