Winter's Return

Winter drifted back into town last night. The shivery -14C felt much lower with the blustery wind adding to the chill.







At times today one could barely see across the street, but the next moment the sun would be sparkling off the shimmering blanket of fresh snow.

This is winter in "the snow belt."

WINTERFEST

This past Saturday dawned bright and cheerful and a sense of expectation filled the air.


When we arrived, Lower Queens Park was bustling with Winterfest activities. Our firemen had created a huge rink in the field below the theatre.

Ice had been trucked in to produce a Luge run for tiny tots, and sculptors had had their fun creating various figures.







The Aerial Angels were performing their high flying acrobatics.





Watching the children playing and adults visiting as we wandered past the many activities made me once again delighted to live in this fair town.


Winter's cold cannot dampen our spirits. Stratford is a city whose citizens like to have fun!

PICTURE PERFECT

A late afternoon stroll in the brisk, cold air of the January deep freeze, brought us to a scene out of the past. Rinks of all sizes have popped up on the Avon.

Pickup games of hockey, children donning their skates for the first time, folks huddled in groups to talk, or helping to shovel.

This is community. This is Stratford!

BARREN ONE

Bleak, barren, she waits.
Waits beneath the virgin spread.
Cold, unfeeling,
Longing for the days gone by
When she was the admired one,
When people thronged to catch a glimpse
Of her as, wrapped in sunshine, she
Played hostess to the world.










How still, how quiet, now alone
She waits in silence.
No crowds to cheer,
No admiring murmurs from the shore;
Just one who walks by disconnected,
Lost in thoughts of other days
When summer reigned.

"Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind

The cold winds of late autumn descended upon Stratford yesterday. Braving the elements to stroll by the river, my eyesight collided with the vanishing dream of summer.




Yes, the ice has appeared, as if from nowhere, and birds that once could float upon the mirrored water now find their image on the hardened icy glass. Skiffs of snow ride like whitecaps upon the solid stream, while wild geese hang on to the pretense that they do not need to leave.


Our river bed has heard the call of Amiens from the tent up on the hill.
“Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude;”
As You Like It (II, vii, 174-176)

Maybe not so unkind, yet enough to breed a discontent, as we look ahead to huddled walks mid blowing snows, and shivering toes.
“Now is the winter of our discontent . . .
And all the clouds that low'r'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.”
Richard The Third Act 1, scene 1, 1–4


Welcome, winter. What else can we say?
Living here in Stratford we know each season has its stay. And even if I do not like the cold, I will find its beauty here in months to come.

CHEERLEADERS

Canada geese are gathering by the hundreds on Lake Victoria.

Walking by the river recently we saw (and heard!) the most interesting display. The geese were floating peacefully when suddenly they began to honk, louder and louder in a great crescendo of sound. One of them stretched up on his legs in the water and flapped his wings with great strength. Others also began to beat their wings, causing a great stirring and splashing of the water. Slowly they lifted off and formed their noisy V across the sky.



This in itself is not unusual, as it seems to be a regular autumn rehearsal before they head to warmer places. What we had never noticed before was that the birds who remained began to honk vociferously as if cheering on their comrades. This cacophony of encouragement lasted for a short time, and then the whole scene repeated itself, again and again until the river lay empty and silent except for the low chatting of those who had stopped to observe.

Autumn Came

Autumn came while I was gone
And cast her gems upon the lawn,




Gold and garnet, emerald too,
And those of flaming crimson hue.


Autumn came, although unseen,
Her vestige masks the summer's green.