Cold days

©MCD_Snow

There is a game to play when you want to make a quick decision and you’re hesitating between two options. To resolve the dilemma, you’re told to ask yourself a series of questions with two answers; the key is to respond as rapidly as possible without thinking too much. So when you get to the query at hand, you’ll answer quickly enough to know how you truly feel about it. Speed here leads to authenticity.

One such question could be if you prefer to be too hot or too cold. But what really is the answer to that, without being season-sensitive concerning when you’re actually asking the question?

In summer, we’re likely to say we prefer being cold. And in winter, vice-versa.

But then a day comes, when snowfall begins unexpectedly – as suddenly as it may be given the week-long meteo warnings. And everything seems so much prettier. Snow makes everything appear happier, more magical, more walking-on-clouds-fluffy-paradise-bright. You don’t care if it’s cold when you’re dressing up like an eskimo, to walk outside like a penguin, to engage in snowball fights like a child. It doesn’t matter if you can’t feel your limbs, let alone your fingers when you’re gathering snow to build a perfect snowman. Amidst the laughter the snow day is causing, the cold is just a side-effect.

But when it all starts to melt, when the fluffy snowflakes turn into rock hard ice, when it’s too slippery to tread outside in the sludge, and when it’s so freaking freezing that it doesn’t even matter there is the sun in the sky, then, yes, you begin to consider that not everything is so lovely as it initially seems. Everything has its limits, and if you’re not prepared – without the infrastructure or mechanisms – to deal with extreme weather conditions, the problems caused can be life-threatening.

Perhaps the cold is something that can be solved with a warm house (via a fireplace or radiator at least), a cosy blanket, a hot beverage, good company, and some entertainment. Perhaps even the temperature is something we control in our minds. But the truth is, cold makes you shut down to preserve energy.

We want days off because we’re too cold to move. But if we were moving in the first place, we might not feel the cold too much…

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Winter Wandering

She woke up with the rejuvenating sensation that all is well in the world, simply because outside it was snowing since the previous night.

For some reason, snow always makes everything seem better.

She was genuinely happy after a long time.

He spooned her into a warm hug though which her optimism diffused into him. And that’s how great ideas – at the spark of a moment – are born; how adventures are concocted.

“Let’s go!” he called as he threw the blanket off them, forcing her to get up and get dressed.

“Promise it’s worth it!” he added.

She thought it was difficult – almost impossible – to find herself in a relationship where there was mutual understanding, shared craziness, and above all, truthfulness. But as they grew and evolved together, they both realised that a person who feels appreciated will always do more than is expected. And most importantly, they would actually act on the words they say. Perhaps that was the most difficult of all these days. Because it’s so easy to say a lot, and fill each other with expectation and dreams; but how often do we take the step to realise them all?

The drive to the wooden cabin up the mountain was majestic. The snowy white blanket acted as a tranquiliser, and they soon forgot about every trouble they had at that moment. For now, all that was important was to enjoy the very moment, away from everything and everyone. It was just them, there, happy. In snow.

Electoral Encounters

©LIsa Fox

They had headed up North for the elections. It was one of the craziest, most irrational, and insane months of the past decade, marred by conflicts, foul language, and political incorrectness at all levels.

But she enjoyed having returned home for the vote. It was a chance for a mini-holiday to a place she knew well. And with people she knew since forever.

All but him.

She bumped into him on a snowy slope, when they were huddling over the best view of the town. She slipped in the snow and fell straight onto him.

That was how it begun.

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Indelible memories

©Roger Bultot

It was one of those misty, hazy, winter days, filled with drizzle that turned into thunderstorms before allowing a rainbow to later briefly appear. It reflected her inexplicable mood.

But that wasn’t why she remembered that day.

It was because of him. 

Because regardless of it all, he took her around the city she hadn’t seen. Round the hidden corners, to the fragrant teahouses, the unique little shops, the monumental squares, the tourist attractions, and the unbeknown gems.

He made it special by creating an indelible memory; by imbuing the thrill of discovering something new together. And of feeling loved.

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Logs to remember

©Dale Rogerson

“The secret to more is less”. It was a motto written right across the stairs that led to the downstairs room. It was smartly organised as an autonomous studio flat. And for that reason it was very often used as a guestroom. But the best part of it all was that it was the room with the fireplace, and had the wooden logs aptly stored right out the window.

The first winter there was the one they reminded, because it was their first one together.

But it was right there where they realised they wanted to spend all winters together.

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A winter memory

© Na’ama Yehuda

In the midst of summer, there came a winter memory.

It was tucked away neatly in a desk drawer. Perhaps to be saved as a memory for those nostalgic nights when you don’t feel like doing much and would rather recall the past for a while.

Perhaps it was there as a constant reminder that life brings happiness in the most unexpected of ways.

Either way, it caused a smile to form; a sweet flutter inside, and a deep breath.

They had come a long way since then.

There were still issues to solve; but they would get there. Eventually.

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Cold but warm together

It was one of those winter days when you would throw (boiling) water up in the air and by the time it began its descent it had already turned into ice.

Yes, it was that cold.

But Miranda loved it. She loved the snow, the cold, and the warmth it led to indoors, wrapped up with a blanket in front of the fireplace with a hot drink in hand, and family and friends around telling stories.

The cold brought them closer together. That was what she remembered.

Sometimes all it takes is for something out of the ordinary to remind us of the most fundamental virtues in life.

We tend to forget the need to nurture our bonds with others when we simply go about our (normal) days.

Winter bunkum

Winter is coming. Finally, after having almost completed half of the three-month calender period of the winter season, meteorologists are predicting freezing temperatures, harsh storms and heavy snowfall.

Simon was happy about it, contrary to most people who were bracing for a disaster as presented by local media.

Simon loved the snow. He saw it as an opportunity for games, where he could ditch school and build snowmen and snow angels from the heavenly flakes that seem to levitate like feathers in the air.

But he was unaware of the trouble the snow caused. How it made life difficult for the poorer castes who lacked the infrastructure to face the adverse conditions. Or how it made access around cities almost impossible, with the snow becoming ice that was too difficult to break to clear the way.

To Simon, all the talk about challenges and difficulties, and the state’s targets and aims, and all such political talk were bunkum. He saw it as simply performative speech-making, insincere rhetoric that only served to spread unnecessary panic among the people. If only, listeners could actually think for themselves, read more, gain a pluralism of information and be critical of everything they hear.

If people could form a viewpoint of their own, perhaps, Simon thought, they could learn to enjoy the snow more.

Searching for allies in our head

It was a cold, winter day with north winds howling through the window. The cold crept indoors, no matter how tightly shut the airways were.

He was moaning about how freezing it was even inside.

She had her mind elsewhere to pay too much attention. It was just the start of winter; more cold would surely follow.

Each person has random things hovering inside their mind. Things that grasp their attention at times when they should be focused on something or someone else. But we don’t know about them unless they are shared with us. Unless that someone else lets us into their mind, and on condition that we are empathetic enough to understand how and why whatever the problem is, is causing so much concern to the person next to us.

We are all different. It is inevitably so. And as such, we don’t all view the world in the same way. Problems we see as “end of the world”-type disasters, to someone else may be negligible mishaps. It is difficult to find people who share our point of view, our perspective, let alone our values. The meaning of “important” is not the same for everyone. That is why it is often challenging to explain what it is that is draining our energy and our mental health.

And that is why people often choose to bury themselves in a shell, rather than speak out. Because it is easier to shy away than try to make others understand.

He left, once again, as he always did when he couldn’t – or didn’t want to – understand her.

Just an hour later, the central heating in the building was turned on, presenting a strong ally against the cold.

Frozen paws

There was no sign of it in the morning. Even before the sun was out, there was frost in the atmosphere and it was freezing. But it was expected to stay dry. It was in the midst of winter, however, and snow was always a possibility.

Not even a half hour had passed when the first snowflake hit the windshield.

The Chihuahua inside the warm vehicle got excited. As if it had understood the magic that was happening. It began to hop on the seat, stretching out its little tongue as if to lick the snowflakes that began to mount on the glass in front of it.

The driver next to the small dog was smiling. Not only because of the white scenery that began to spread rapidly now; but mainly due to the unexpected reaction from his four-legged friend.

When the road began to become more slippery, they slowed down. Caution was required.

That was when the little dog pinned its eyes outside a certain spot on the window and began to bark. Its tail was elongated like a needle.

The driver stopped and got outside.

The snow was even denser now. You could almost feel it falling on you. The Chihuahua managed to slip outside just before the car door closed.

There in front of them, near some snow-covered bushes was a furry bagel-like-circle. You could barely make out its pointy ears and fluffy tail. The snowflakes had almost engulfed it.

The dog’s owner approached cautiously and extended his hand. The fox opened its eyes. It didn’t move. Perhaps it was too scared. Or perhaps it was too numb from the cold. Its piercing blue-green eyes almost begged for help.

The driver picked it up without breaking the circle it had sat in. Inside the warmth of the car, the fox fluffed up its fur and almost appeared to smile.

The Chihuahua was happy. It didn’t want to be enjoying the luxury of a refuge when some other co-animal was freezing outside. Just because you’re safe, doesn’t mean everyone else is too.