Columnists
Around the corner to December
I’ve said this before, but I used to really, really dislike this time of year. When we lived in Toronto, what turned my heart to ice was the boots, the gloves, the hats, the winter coats, the cold walk to the TTC stop and the grey, salty-slush we referred to as “snow”. The sixties was a time for fashion before sensible winter wear for working women. I hated being fashionably frozen. Then there was the holidays with the excessive spending and the “top this” gift-giving, who-bakedthe- best-cookie competition, the eating too much and drinking too much, the giftwrapping competition and then, in January, the paying for it all. Plain and simply, I wanted to climb into a giant red and green stocking and sleep from December 1st until January 2nd. What a surprise, eh? How could such a jolly gal, such as moi, be such a winter and holidayhating- humbugger? And then?
Well, and then I just got tired of being miserable about it all and I decided to embrace my inner child. I remembered how much I’d loved winter and the Holiday Season as a youngster living in the City of Toronto. The first snowfall. The nighttime skating in Strathburn Park, the tobogganing at High Park near The Pond. Sitting around the kitchen table with Mom and the siblings making Christmas cards. Baking and decorating cookies. And, there was the Anticipation Factor. In spite of having seven children, my parents were very indulgent. The food was fabulous, the tree was real (and really dazzling), the glass bowl of ribbon candy, the big wooden bowl of nuts, the hot cocoa and the cookies. Oh my, the cookies. In spite of all of that, I stopped believing in Christmas and stopped loving winter, likely somewhere between paying the rent, student loans, being broke and thinking at twenty-something years of age I deserved better. By the time I was fiftysomething, and living in the County, I knew it was time to reacquaint myself with the joy of winter and the holidays. I thought I was long past believing in Santa Claus. I no longer felt the excitement of the countdown from the very first really cold day of December to December 25th. I was way past all of the happiness. I just wanted it to be another day. But one day, in a December many years ago, I wanted the joy back. I became a bornagain Santa Claus believer. Don’t laugh. One day I gave myself permission to stop measuring up to other people’s standards and expectations. Heck, I even allowed myself to buy Christmas cookies and, surprise, surprise, nobody really seemed to care. After years of busting my gingerbread bottom in the kitchen, blaming the oven, the recipe, the cookie sheets or the timer, I realized it wasn’t about the cookies. Nor was it about measuring-up wondering if my winter boots should match my coat, match my hat, match my scarf, match my gloves. I figured it out, if you pick fashion over winter-practicality, you miss out on a lot of cold-weather enjoyment. No one ever praised me about my eight hundred dollar Anne Taylor coat and matching one hundred and fifty dollar scarf when I lived in Toronto. But when we moved to the County, I did get a lot of comments about my lack of a sensible parka and insulated boots. A soon-to-be good friend introduced me to the fashion section of the Farm Store.
Once I had embraced real winter clothing, being outside became a treat again. Over twenty years ago our oldest son suggested making gifts instead of buying gifts. LOML, Son of Ours and I asked our family to stop giving gifts that weren’t handmade, home baked or locally crafted. We just spent our money in craft stores buying paint, yarn, fabric and patterns, at the grocery store stocking up on baking needs and at local creative retailers.The fun of giving and the Anticipation Factor slowly returned to me. As far as enjoying winter goes, it could be worse. I am the only Durning sibling who doesn’t ski. I have snowshoes in the barn, but can’t remember ever using them even though one of “the brothers” insisted we snowshoed. But I finally got the winter holiday vibe back. Fashion is something that fits under the parka and fashion needs to be warm and sensible. And then?
Well, and then I spent more time enjoying the Trail, painting, baking, being out-of-doors winter picnicking, backyard bird watching, sipping porch coffees in the snow, having a holiday lunch with the Gym Sisters and reading. LOML and I listen to Holiday music more—a whole lot more. We watch all of the corny, funny, dramatic Holiday movies. BTW, Die Hard is a Christmas movie. We have at least one Holiday treat every-single-day. I have learned to expect nothing and have been rewarded with everything.
So, it’s the very, very end of November. Find your winter woolies, pour yourself a coffee and dig into the Snickerdoodles.
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