By Jay Scott Kanes
Editor's Note: Although born in Canada, the writer has lived for nearly two decades in Hong Kong, a tropical metropolis where snow never falls.
PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND, Canada – Sometimes the wind howls and tugs at the thick coat buttoned tightly around me. At other moments, huge snowflakes fall gently from a dark sky. When visiting or living in Canada, the most predictable aspect of winter weather may be its unpredictability.
Anyone hoping to survive in a Canadian winter must employ one all-important strategy. I'll reveal more about that later.
Often I visit a dairy farm belonging to my brother James and sister-in-law Janet near the Atlantic Ocean. Usually I'm there in the summer. Recently, an out-of-season chance to linger for a few weeks amid the Holstein cattle and barn cats, far from my usual hangouts in Hong Kong, held special appeal for the prospect of encountering snow and re-experiencing “real winter weather”. Originally from Canada, I often miss the refreshing variety of northern seasons. Shoveling a little snow makes for good exercise too.
Mother Nature didn't disappoint me. She hurled a series of windstorms and snowfalls at Atlantic Canada during my stay. Temperatures dipped. Fluffy white precipitation crunched underfoot. I could throw snowballs. Icy roads and poor visibility hampered driving, but I shoveled some excess snow from the farmhouse driveway anyhow.
People living in Hong Kong or elsewhere in the tropics seldom own the proper clothing to cope with a chilly Canadian winter. Although equipped with a thick coat, I still needed to borrow sweaters from my father and winter boots from my brother.
One night, a wind-battered utility pole toppled leaving the farmhouse and nearby barns temporarily without electricity. Luckily, the repairs, although expensive, didn't take long.
Frequent news reports about farm bankruptcies confirm that trying to earn a living from agriculture brings countless hardships at the best of times. My brother and sister-in-law work long days, trying to make each task, every hour, count toward higher productivity. On any farm, the financial and human resources have definite limits and can't be wasted. Damage inflicted by winter storms, although part of the business in Canada, can worsen matters.
In the main dairy barn and its extensions, more than 100 cattle munched on bovine grub, produced milk and stayed warm thanks to their collective body-heat. Two dozen cats, many still youngsters, searched for mice, rested on stacked straw-bales or scampered outside to leave paw-prints in the snow. A furry black dog named Curly, her snout whitened not by the falling flakes but by advancing years, also sheltered in the barn, ready to supervise everything that happened there.
From the fringes of nearby woods, coyotes howled. Usually they stay away from the farm buildings, but not always. Barn cats straying too far can fall victim to these predators.
When winter storms rage and a relentless cold nips at exposed skin, the survival strategy that I mentioned earlier becomes essential. What is it? Simply this! Once things turn cold outside, rely on a cozy corner indoors, a spot to curl up and relax near a heating vent or radiator. Amid nasty weather, even the heartiest Canadians -- and visitors like me – must take temporary shelter in such places. Stacks of good books and favorite recorded music within easy reach of these hidey-holes may help too. Then people can be sure to survive until the violent winds diminish, the snow melts and springtime again smiles across the fertile landscape.
The greatest moments in Canada happen when the wild-winter weather finally stops. With the arrival of spring sunshine, an incredible euphoria prevails. Sadly, people in southern climates never experience precisely that feeling.
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