remembering real winters...

It's funny, when it snows here, the first thing I want to do is 

grab my camera and go take pictures of the magic being created on the landscape.

Everything looks so pretty after the first fall of flakes.

Looking back on old photos from my childhood, I realized that the 

photos of the snowfalls always included people.

Most noticeably, us kids...

Here we are, circa 1969, in Riverdale Park, Toronto.

I remember the feeling of getting bundled up so tight that my dad had to

do up our boots, or skates because we couldn't bend over in all that winter gear.

That's me, front row center with the chipped tooth.

I remember that hat too. It was 'genuine sheep skin'

and man, was it warm! 

Toronto winters were white, long and cold...

My sister, me and my brother (probably freezing our little buts off)

But seeming like we were having fun no matter what the temperature was.

That's my dad's big shadow taking our picture.

I guess because I don't have little kids at home anymore, I tend to

take pictures of the leaves and trees and shadows of the weather...

I'm not sure if I lived back east again if I would be running out at the 

first sight of snowy down. 

Winter is different there. You're in for the long haul and the first snow

is the sign of the beginning of about 6 more months of it.

It's cold and predictable.

Here we can have mild temps for weeks at a time and snow

is a fairly short occurrence.

It never lasts long.

Here's my sister in her new winter coat.

It was bright red and black. 

And those boots!!

You go-go girl!

Now look at the snow beside her...

I remember making tunnels and igloos out of those piles.

Here we don't get that at all.

And the tobogganing!!

We were on the hill all the time.

Every household owned at least one toboggan.

I think I should like to spend at least one more winter in real snow.

Maybe I'm forgetting all the shite parts of real winters though...

the driving, the shovelling, the not getting out of the house for days.

But I guess that's the beauty of childhood memories isn't it?

All sugar and spice and coming in from the cold, leaving your winter

woollies in a pile in the basement and coming upstairs for hot cocoa...

The olden days...

That's what we use to say when we were kids, talking about ancient times..."back in the olden days".

As the trees begin to go to sleep for the winter and the air is crisp and cool,

I am in a melancholy mood.

I know that my nieces and nephews are thinking of Halloween and I am thinking of my own childhood days getting prepared for the BIG NIGHT.

We didn't buy costumes, EVER!

We made, begged, borrowed or just about stole whatever we needed.

(one of those 'last minute mime' costumes)

(Stephanie Jones and I in our' not so politically correct' costumes)

(brother Jeff, pirate style...notice the bulky coat under dad's t-shirt)

Hobo's, gypsies, princess' witches and ghosts were other, popular choices.

There were some kids who might buy a costume of a simple plastic cape thing that had to fit over warm clothing.

Along with it came a cheap mask with eye holes and barely a hole to breath out of.

My neighbour always had this type of costume, and I envied her until I tried on the mask and nearly died from the sweat and stench of my own breath, suffocating me.

I lived in the city and always went out with siblings or friends.

Our parents could trust the world we lived in.

Filling up a pillow case, at least half way, was our biggest worry.

The only thing we weren't allowed to keep were those dangerous apples.

It was in the first days of razor blade scares.

Now kids are driven to the mall for trick or treating.

Costumes are elaborate, ghoulish, sexy and store bought.

I'm happy to have lived in these simpler times...'the olden days'.