Frigid Sunrise

The cat perches on top of me while I snuggle down under the blankets, hoping to hear the weather forecast on the radio. She is anticipatory of morning rations; me: a weather forecast. She is the morning shift. My new kittie, Ollie, spent the better part of the night sleeping close by my head trying to keep warm. Despite the -15 statement on the thermometer, I like to leave the curtains open at night so best to see the sunrise. Usually the curtains help keep the warmth from our wood stove in, and the cold out.

Morning is the best part of the day. The snowmobiles are silent; the traffic stilled. Soon the birds will rise and visit the feeder to take sustenance on the frigid day. The brilliant reddy-orange on the horizon, visible through the trees, confirms the storm the Weather Network warns us about. We have no where to go today and can stay warm and dry.

Rain in Toronto, snow in North Bay, hours of freezing rain in Ottawa. We lie somewhere in between, forgotten on the newscast. I hope for snow, as Ice Storm ’98 was a difficult time with two weeks without power. Our generator lies waiting, ready to kick in when an if we lose power yet again. It seems more frequent, but it is hard to tell. This is only our second year here in Muskoka. It was one year ago yesterday that my father passed away in Long Term Care. I must work on my book today. I am making progress.

We live in the beauty of Mom and Dad's precious Muskoka home. I built the wood fire, as Dad always did faithfully at 5:30 a.m. I know when, becase whenever we visited he was up noisily building the fire come hell or high water! It is the likely source of my morning appreciation. I spent a couple of hours yesterday and the day before shovelling the snow off of the cottage roof. A fine Muskoka tradition. I could picture my dad up there doing this over the years. The cottage, built in 1962, may not have needed it but it was a little bit of sun and fresh air. My parents lived good, long lives keeping active and busy. I can do the same.

In this, likely the idling capital of the world, I hope that people can turn off their engines and show some respect for Mother Earth. We are too far 'south' for those who appreciate nature. Our citiots arrive, hellbent for a big adventure in the 'north'. They care about getting up here to have fun. The snowmobiles scare me on my walks. The noise of the machines, the smell and the disrespect for the environment and pedestrians. They haunt the town's streets; popping up around a corner. The water is frozen on small lakes, yet our shore remains open. The Ontario Snowmobile Club has unheeded warnings. We lost three men whose machines slipped off the edge of the ice into the numbing water in near-by Huntsville.

I await my morning coffee.