Winter has started to close in on us living here in New Zealand. The South Island received a good dump of snow this week and there was even flurries at our house. They were gone within the hour and we enjoyed sunshine for the rest of the day, but still, there was snow in May.
The last two or so years we didn't really get a winter. It didn't get cold, not really, and it wasn't very wet and we had no snow. We tend to have a better spring, grass wise, if we have a good cold, wet winter. I'm looking forward to a proper winter with snow.
It must be my Canadian coming out but I miss seasons that you can differentiate from the last. Here, for the most part winter slips into spring which slips into summer. Autumn is the only season I can say, 'Yes, the season has changed.' I miss tobogganing down the hills and the crisp air burning my lungs.
I imagine the Canadians I left behind think I'm crazy. They've just come out of winter and are heading for summer. The last thing I'm sure they want to think about is a deep cold.
Don't get me wrong, I don't miss the 30 below weather or the six foot drifts or driving in a blizzard. I suppose what I really miss is where I grew up and the people I left behind.
The snow this week just made me homesick and must be why I love watching it fall out of the sky in big white flakes.
I am an author and this is my story.