Regina

This is how winter is supposed to be: -27° Celsius, crisp ankle-deep snow, clear blue skies. The first breath of frosty air as you step out the door, that freezes your nose and shocks your lungs. The numbness in your cheeks as they begin to freeze. The feel of cold blood flowing up the veins of your arms, when you remove your gloves to take a photo. The tingle in your nearly-frozen toes, that continues an hour after you get home again.

Life is great.

I travelled down from Saskatoon yesterday morning, after having travelled all day from Calgary to S'toon (a local joke, that's how it is abbreviated on highway signs) the day before. I love the Greyhound bus, it's without doubt my favourite mode of transportation, and I particularly love riding buses at night (or before dawn, as was the case yesterday). It's wonderful to drive silently through these sleepy towns, watching the doughnut shops opening up, seeing the first few cars heading out for the day.

Dawn on the Prairies in midwinter is a protracted affair: It takes ages for the sun to work around and up. I was singing quietly to myself (not to wake the sleepers, silly fools ignoring the glories of Nature):
    Sun's up, m-hm, looks okay,
    The world survives into another day
    And I'm thinking about eternity.
    Bruce Cockburn, "Wondering where the lions are"
Quoted from memory, feel free to correct me.

The Greyhound bus has only one drawback: There are no tables, not even airline-style fold-down trays, and in any case the ride on any highway is too bumpy for typing. So I couldn't blog, much as I would have loved to give you a blow-by-blow account of the sun rising, and the different colours that the snow takes on as night shades slowly into day.

The rising sun was accompanied by sundogs, also called "parhelion", with a clearly visible halo joining them. Sundogs are a special effect of the north, only visible when ice crystals in the air come between you and the sun. The halo is an inverted rainbow: Red on the inside of the circle, instead of outside. The effect was visible almost all the way to Regina, but by the time we stopped and I could get to my camera (cleverly packed away in the luggage hold) it had faded.

The family has gathered at my sister's house: three generations in approximate peace and harmony. I am very happy to be here.