Snowblind – the Great Vancouver Snowstorm of '08-'09

Snow has been falling for the better part of three weeks. I’ve felt housebound for most of that time, thanks to unsteady knees and a fear of falling. I rarely move from this chair on any day that isn’t a work day, and even then it takes a battle of wills to make it into the office.
Today I reached the breaking point. Snowflakes, drifts, and icy conditions be damned, I decided to go out for a walk, not once, but twice on Sunday.

Slip, slide, stomp, stomp, stomp. SNAP. I’m out and about with my camera. I stare upward to watch as the flakes keep falling. I stare ahead at the mountains of weeks-, days- and hours-old snow drifts expand, contract, and expand with each passing day.
It isn’t as cold as it was when the snow started falling three weeks ago, but I don’t think the thermostat has moved above freezing for very long, or for very many days in a row. The stuff on the ground is obstinate, used, grouchy snow, while the fresh stuff is as sticky as velcro, or as wet as a spring rain shower. Sometimes it even falls as sleet.

I marvel at the sound of icy snow as it trampolines off my umbrella. Distant sirens punctuate the silence, but only briefly. I hear my breath leaving my lungs loudly, accompanied by the soft slush, slush, swish, swoosh of cars passing gingerly over unplowed city streets.
As much as I’ve complained about Vancouver’s cold, rainy winters and how my feet and fingers are never warm enough all winter long, I’m actually looking forward to a few days of gentle soaking showers and a several days-long stretch of temperatures around the 4 to 5° C mark. I long for lawns and sidewalks. I’ve grown tired of feeling like I’ve moved to the Moon.