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winter

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Image from http://www.freefoto.comLord, here comes the flood
We’ll say goodbye to flesh and blood
If again the seas are silent in any still alive
It’ll be those who gave their island to survive
Drink up, dreamers, you’re running dry

Peter Gabriel

It is broadly held that were it not for the weather we Brits would not have two words to say to each other. This is – of course – a vicious calumny, though it cannot be denied that the subject has – of late – provided much on which to confabulate.

Those resident in this green and pleasant land (what can yet be discerned of it through the murky drab by which great swathes of it are currently concealed) will be only too aware that the weather here throughout the past two months has been truly terrible. Ceaseless rainfall – giving parts of the UK their wettest January on record – and a constant conveyor of storm fronts from the Atlantic has resulted in catastrophic flooding, downed trees, damaged property and severed railway lines. Though the recent run of storms has abated somewhat this week there is no sign of an end to the apparently perpetual precipitation, which deluge has nowhere to go – landing as it is on already sodden ground.

Concurrent with this local cataclysm eastern Canada and the US have been experiencing freezing rain, wind and snow, whilst California – conversely – basks in record warm temperatures and suffers an ever-worsening drought.

Clearly – something is up. Equally clearly – to many of us at least – that something is ‘climate change’.

It would appear that the pattern of the jet stream that controls the weather in the northern hemisphere has started to alter – slowing down and beginning to meander in a previously unheralded manner. As a result weather patterns that would once have passed by expeditiously are now becoming bogged down for extended – and dangerous – periods…

…not that you would know any of this should you rely for your information on the say of  the ‘climate change deniers’!

These deniers come in two varieties. The first – and perhaps worst – breed are those who deny that there have been any climate changes at all. These disbelievers hold that there have always been extreme weather patterns – and point out that the recent disturbances are merely ‘once in a hundred year’ events. This view would hold more credence were it not for the fact that the same was said last year – and quite probably a year or so before that. In actual fact, the frequency of these ‘unprecedented’ events appears to be increasing.

The second brood of deniers are those that accept that the climate has changed, but deny that this is in any way a result of man’s activities. This would – by itself – mean little, were it not that these cynics further decree that since we did nothing to cause the change we need do nothing about it. More – that we should do nothing about it. This marvelously perverse view has its roots in the Weltanschauung that is common to all deniers… they are all at heart free-marketeers! As such their blinkered world-view extends no further than the short-term cost of anything and everything, and is informed by the belief that – given its head – the market will resolve all issues. This tenet is adhered to blindly in the face of all recent evidence to the contrary and might – quite literally – one day be the death of us all!

I need to lie down in a darkened room!

Stay dry – stay warm…

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Once again, we come to the Holiday Season, a deeply religious time that each of us observes, in his own way, by going to the mall of his choice.

DaveBarry 

In Victoria – whence we travel tomorrow – the temperature is a relatively balmy 3-5 degrees Celsius and any snow that has fallen will doubtless vanish within a day or so. Here in Kamloops, on the other hand – where we commenced our Canadian Odyssey – the temperature on day one was a brisk -7C – and considerably less than that once wind-chill was taken into account.

Preparations for Christmas are well in hand…

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

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Photo by KTSquareFor a blog that carries – as the tagline on its masthead – the apothegm “Coming to Canada” – this site has been of late remarkably free of any content actually relating to that fair country. Well – that’s about to change!

The Imperceptible Immigrant and the Kickass Canada Girl are proud to announce the details of their Winter 2013/14 Canadian Tour – featuring appearances in Vancouver (briefly!), Kamloops, Victoria, Nanaimo, Duncan (to be confirmed!) and Tofino (for the Big Birthday Bash!).

The intrepid duo will be bringing their particular brand of charm to the beautiful province of British Columbia from December 18th this year – determined not to leave until Christmas, the New Year and the Big Birthday itself have been well and truly celebrated. And if that means staying until the 6th January 2014 – then so be it!

The flights have been booked – the fan club alerted – the Girl has started planning her packing and the days, hours and minutes are being counted.

We can’t wait!

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Here in the south east of England we don’t get very much snow – and when we do it doesn’t usually stay very long. Canadian readers and those in the north of the UK will probably snort derisively at this point, but the Kickass Canada Girl and I currently live in the land of the ‘soft southern jessies’ and that is just the way it is. Anyway – as a result we get pretty excited when the snow lasts a long time, as it seems to be doing at the moment. I trust that you will forgive me, therefore, if I post a few more snow snaps!

 

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

I rather liked this instance of Pepper’s Ghost… candles in the snow!

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

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“The color of springtime is in the flowers; the color of winter is in the imagination.”

Terri Guillemets

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidShould auld acquaintance be forgot
and never brought to mind…

Rabbie Burns

At this point – as the final full stop punctuates the ultimate paragraph on the page of 2012 and the leaf turns wearily to reveal the blank sheet that apprehensively anticipates the first words of 2013 – it is quite natural to take a last long look back at the events and happenings of the past twelve months before turning our anxious gaze once more to the future. Have we – by this reckoning – achieved those aims that we set ourselves at the outset of the year? Have we grasped the opportunities that have arisen unexpectedly since then? Can we – in short – feel satisfied that we have filled each “unforgiving minute with sixty seconds’ worth of distance run”?

Well – maybe not entirely, though it is hard to imagine quite what else might have been done. This has certainly been a year in which the unexpected has trumped all carefully considered stratagems – in which squalls and tempests have blown apart accustomed weather patterns, both literally and figuratively. Of the specific aims and ambitions that we had ourselves formulated at the start of the year few now remain – having been scattered to the far corners of the earth by the rough winds of events – and yet we survive intact, as do our long term dreams and intents. There is yet much to learn from the experience.

I am not much of a one for New Year resolutions – those inflexible tenets that rarely survive intact the icy blasts of winter. We do – however – clearly need to re-focus our thoughts and to re-discover our ‘mojos’. This will probably take some time as we accustom ourselves to our new circumstances – and as the dark decurtate days of winter slowly give way to the renaissance that is spring. This tradition of mirroring our own development to the rebirth of the year through the change of the seasons is as ancient and timeless as the land itself and I see no reason to tinker with nature’s tenacious tutelage.

One thing I must do at this juncture, however, is to express my humble and heartfelt thanks to all those friends, family and acquaintances who have helped, supported and succored us both through this last year. Our gratitude is undying and we will do our very best to repay your kindnesses as we may.

All that remains is for me to wish you all a very Happy Hogmany.

“A guid New Year to ane an’ a’ and mony may ye see”

 

 

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Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee

Whether the summer clothe the general earth with greenness or the redbreast sit and sing

Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch smokes in the sun-thaw

Whether the eve-drops fall, heard only in the trances of the blast

Or if the secret ministry of frost shall hang them up in silent icicles

Quietly shining to the quiet moon.

Frost at Midnight

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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“It’s mornings like this;
The stingy sun trying to hold back
Even the warmth of its reflection
Flashing coldly in the lake.
When November leaves drop in sudden gusts,
Like a red and yellow flock of birds
Swooping at once to ground.
Or even nights:
When winds reach wet hands
To take you spinning with random paper
Down back street gutters, under straining bridges
To clogged rivers.
It’s this:
The time of year, along with spring,
When poets must take care
Not to sing the same old songs
Stolen from tribal memory.”

Thomas R. Drinkard

In my opinion – humble or otherwise – November is quite the grimmest quantum of the year… far worse than Eliot’s ‘cruelest month’. There are entire days on which the light struggles helplessly to elevate itself beyond a Stygian post-apocalyptic twilight, and the dismal rain lashes the last few leaves from the traumatised trees to besmirch the sodden earth like eviscerated corpses smeared across the battlefield of the dying year.

The shortest day is yet a month away – and our subsequent celebration of ‘Sol Invictus’ has scarce reached the planning stage. Like the dormant green shoots themselves all thoughts of spring are still lodged securely underground – safe from the winter frosts. They will not expose their tender heads to the chill air for many months yet.

The Michaelmas term is always the longest – and the toughest – of the school year. The aim is to crack the preponderance of the curriculum before the solstice break – to form a platform for the anticipated achievements of the new year. The cause is noble, but the casualties are heavy – in terms of exhaustion, langour and ennui.

There comes a point at which one is just counting the days – and at such times, indeed, ‘poets must take care’…

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