As Canadians we endure

The young Morse's name is Endeavour, like the drama on television. Another possible name, for Canadians, would be Endurance, that is what we do best considering our long winters. Endurance is also the name of Shackleton's ship that sank in the Antarctica in 1915, and the ship itself has endured, frozen in time by the frigid water in which it sank. We Canadians endure while others surrender, including Americans who never tire of telling the world how great they are and that you can be anything, literally anything, if you put your mind to it. We know this isn't true, but it's good old fashioned American get up and go and will power over all obstacles. Good for them! If you have enough money and resources you can possibly achieve what poorer people can`t achieve, but it is also pride, hubris, and self-satisfaction. I think the moral fibre and vision of life comes from the very earth and geography on which we walk, and anyone coming to Canada soon drops their old ways and learns how to endure. I remember a book in the SGWU stacks, on Robert Lowell, titled Everything to be Endured, but that is also life. Call me Endurance, like other Canadians, I have survived. 

Meanwhile, a snow storm is blowing up from Texas or a cold spell is blowing south from the Arctic; these photographs of an earlier snowstorm were taken in February 2022.

A white garden/ a garden under snow

There isn't really a lot to commend winter, I suppose beauty is in the eye of the beholder but winter drags on too long and, like a house guest after two weeks, can overstay its welcome. The first snowfall in November or December is serene, quiet, lovely to see the snow lined branches of trees, and even a big snowfall (let's say 20 cm) isn't all that bad, not if you're at home, don't have to go out, and can enjoy quiet time during the falling snow. What is not fun, pleasant, happy, serene, meditative is how our winters drag on into late March and sometimes even early April; four of five months of winter is just too much. A three month winter, from first snowfall to the snow melting, is about all many of us can stand. 

Here is my Canadian cottage garden in early March this year. I gave up even walking back there two months ago, previously I would go for a walk and then, arriving home, I'd check out the backyard. We miss the diversity of summer, the colours of flowers, the many plants, birds singing, insects, and then we surrender all of this to winter. "Mon pays c'est l'hiver" sang Gilles Vigneault, but it's not my country.