How to Love Winter
Because you must, or else you will be miserable.
It just keeps snowing and snowing and snowing. The snowbanks are six feet high in places, making the sidewalks feel like tunnels. The streets are getting narrower as the plows run out of room to put the snow, and cars have to slow down to pass. Sometimes the snow comes down so steadily and unrelentingly that we have to clear and shovel our driveway twice a day, just to keep up.
Earlier this week, the highways were closed due to whiteout conditions; this isn’t unusual, living near Lake Huron. The “lake effect” snow blows horizontally and obliterates all visibility. The police set up physical barriers on the closed roads, and our car insurance is void if we ignore them. So, mostly, everyone stays home.
Yesterday marked the 14th day of bus cancellations so far this year, which means schools can’t run normally. The high school goes entirely online, which means that, since the start of December, my oldest son has been home for nearly three weeks in addition to the Christmas holidays—and his math exam was cancelled yesterday. My younger two go to classes that are sparsely attended, with sometimes only three or four kids out of 20 or more. The teachers can’t follow the usual curriculum because there are too few kids to teach.
I haven’t seen a winter like this in years. Despite the challenges, I love it. This is how winter should be, not the gross, grey, muddy, snowless limbo state that we’ve endured more recently. The sheer force of this weather is humbling—a reminder that, no matter how much advanced technology might exist in my car, it’s no match for Mother Nature, who simply refuses to let me drive to the grocery store. All I can do is acknowledge and surrender to her primacy.
At the same time, I am so profoundly grateful that we’re only contending with snow, not fire or floods or hurricane-level winds. It could be much worse.
My husband sent me a quote: “If you choose not to find joy in the snow, you will have less joy and the same amount of snow.” This, I think, is key to making it through a Canadian winter. You have to find ways to enjoy it. You have to convince yourself to like it.
Go Outside
It starts by getting outside and doing stuff. You have to engage with the cold weather and learn what it has to offer, instead of trying to hide from it or wish it away. Several years ago, we invested in decent cross-country skis for the whole family (our kids also skate-ski competitively), and then we made a point of going to a nearby trail network every weekend for a couple hours. It was a fantastic way to kick off each frigid Saturday morning, and I found it rejuvenating to be out in the forest again.
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Find your thing, whether it’s skating or downhill skiing or snowshoeing or taking your kids and their friends to a great neighbourhood sledding hill. Even wintry walks with friends can be rewarding. Sometimes we have backyard campfires on a Sunday afternoon, inviting brave friends who are willing to sit on slightly cold patio furniture, wrapped in blankets, with cups of hot cider or tea, just to hang out. The kids play nearby, usually digging. Always digging.
Earlier in the winter, I saw some guys windsurfing on Lake Huron; I thought it looked tremendously fun, if a bit chilly. I know a group of people who love doing icy cold plunges, followed by a sauna. My parents, who live beside a lake, always try to make an ice rink.
Suit Up
To do any of this, though, you need adequate gear. This may mean spending money, but think of it as an investment in your mental health and sanity—and good gear can last a very long time and get handed down to multiple children. I buy a lot of my kids’ winter stuff at second-hand shops and on clearance sites, rarely paying full price.
Then you need a way to deal with it. We have a very small entrance space, so winter gear tends to pile up and create congestion. I found a drying rack that folds out from the wall, and that’s where the kids hang their wet snowpants and coats as soon as they come in. We have a cheap plastic mitt dryer that sits on one of the floor vents, and that’s where mitts and hats go. Every night before bed, I make a point of checking their boots to see if they need to be dried, too.
At times, it feels like an endless cycle of wet-dry-wet-dry, but then I watch them building quinzhees and hurling snowballs and playing hide-and-seek in the dark after dinner, and it’s worth it.
Get Cozy
Another way to find joy in winter is to embrace the coziness. You will feel even cozier if it follows a good chunk of outdoor time, so try to pair them if you can. I like to think of winter nights and weekends as my hibernation time, a time when it’s perfectly acceptable to spend hours in sweatpants, curled up on the couch beside the fireplace, reading a book, drinking tea, staring out the window—basically, living out all the “hygge” stereotypes that were trendy 10 years ago!
This year, I’ve acquired a slightly different perspective on it. Winter is now a time for healing. I had a bizarre, unexpected health problem hit me out of the blue just before Christmas, a day after I announced to my husband that I thought I was at “peak fitness.” (Karma, perhaps?) I have spent the past five weeks in acute pain, with limited mobility, and am now recovering from major surgery. My soft couch and cozy living room have never felt so welcoming, and when I feel discouraged, I remind myself that my body could not have chosen a better time of year to need intervention.
No doubt, your winter looks different than mine, depending on where you live. But the underlying message still applies—that finding ways to engage with and enjoy this prickly, fickle season is better than fighting it. You’ll never win. Love it, instead.
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You hit the nail on the head with "you have to engage."
The good news is that when we're outside, our mitochondria absorb the near infrared (NIR) wavelengths of the Sun, which even bounce off the snow or grass NIR then gives us the master antioxidant - subcellular melatonin, which helps give us a regenerative sleep - for a better mood, and a better life all winter!
Get out there!
So sorry to hear about the surgery!