Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

I know this may sound crazy, considering how long and hard our winter here in Edmonton has been, but it's been snowing all week and I couldn't be happier. Softly snowing, mind you. A hard snow is still a disaster no matter which way you look at it. But the five centimetres we've been getting every day this week isn't so bad, and it has the wonderful benefit of covering up all the dirt and muck and ice that has accumulated since our last big snowfall in January.

The thing that people from warmer climes--like Arkansas--don't understand about snow is that in really cold places, the snow you get in December sticks around until May, and over the course of those six months it gets really dirty, and ugly, and full of trash. There's no such thing as a winter wonderland four months into your winter here. So little snowfalls like the ones we've had this week make everything look all fresh and white and clean, and I, for one, just love it.

I still hate winter, mind you, but much to my surprise, I'm taking this particularly wretched winter in stride. (Perhaps it was because of that glorious December we spent in the sun.) My new strategy for dealing with the weather is just to hole up like a bear in my den. I used to try to go about my regular schedule despite the snow, but it's just so much work to put on all my winter gear, get out there and shovel out the car, plug in the engine, and navigate the icy roads--especially now that I'm eight months pregnant and lumbering around like a heavy bear anyway.

Spending my weekends holed up at home has had its benefits. Rather than exhaust myself trying to schlep out to the farmers' market or go to the swimming pool or the bookstore or the grocery store, I hang out with Colin at home, and we do little things, like paint or colour or make cupcakes or (even better) just relax. We're spending less money and more time doing things that make us rested and content--rather than frazzled, exhausted and cross.

Staying in has been a particular blessing this weekend since Kevin's been out of town for work and this single-working-parent gig has really run me ragged. Today, Colin spent the morning playing with puzzles and his piggy bank and his cars and trucks, and I spent it sitting in my rocking chair, listening to Debussy and watching the snow fall outside--and not giving a damn about a thing. Except hoping that the snow doesn't prevent Kevin from flying home to us today. I'm really ready to have him back. Otherwise, I say, "Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!"

After a few months of regular snow fall that snow is high! It would swallow Colin right up with we didn't shovel out paths for him.

One of the ubiquitous white rabbits that hop around town all winter. For my part, I prefer to hibernate through the season.

Hell has officially frozen over

My cousin sent me a link today with this picture. Apparently, this was downtown Edmonton a couple of weeks ago during a full moon and a cold snap. Clearly, the world will end in ice.

Here's a little poetry to warm a cold day:

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

--Robert Frost, "Fire and Ice"

Winter Light

This being only my fourth winter in Edmonton--and the worst winter Edmontonians have seen in more than 20 years, I feel like I've been coping pretty well. (Although maybe that has to do with the fact that we skipped town for a month in December.)

This city knows it has crappy weather, and crappy winter roads, and winter weather services, but one thing it has tried to do to make up for that is to have lots of winter festivals, celebrating the best parts of winter. For three months, during the coldest of winter, the "Winter Light Festival" brings something every weekend to help locals take the edge off: evening light shows, bonfires, parades, pond skates, ice sculpture contests, lantern-lit walks, etc.

Kevin and I have been to a number of the events over the years, our favourite being the Ice on Whyte and the Deep Freeze Festival, but having a toddler in tow has curtailed our outings a bit--especially this year. During most of the highlights of the festival, we've been getting dumped with three feet of snow or else it's been in the -20s and much too cold to take a toddler outside (especially one who refuses to wear his mittens!).

But recently, we had a weekend with a "warm" day, which in our northern nomenclature means above freezing, so we all headed downtown for the final day of Ice on Whyte. Unfortunately, every family in Edmonton had the same idea, so it was a little crowded. Also, warm temperatures are actually less-than-ideal for a festival built around snow and ice. The walkways were mostly dirt and slush and the ice sculptures were beginning to melt. No matter. It was warm and the sun was shining and everyone in the city, it seemed, was smiling. Ah, if every winter's day could be so beautiful, I wouldn't mind this season in the least--although, I guess then it wouldn't be called winter.

It's a date!

One of the hardest things about being a parent so far from our family and friends is the difficulty of finding babysitters. We have one incredible babysitter who lives in the far north of the city, but it's tricky to get to her house in winter driving conditions. Lately, the only nights out we've managed are for Saturday night dinner parties planned well in advance.

What I'd really like is a teenage babysitter who lives down the street and can just pop over to our house for a few hours on a school night so that Kevin and I can go out to dinner or see a movie. Before we became parents, we used to go to the movies once or twice a week. This year, the only Oscar-nominated movie Kevin and I have seen is Toy Story 3, and we've seen it about 100 times now.

But finding such a babysitter has been next to impossible. Kids these days are so over-committed with school and sports obligations. And after our last experience with one, in which Colin apparently cried for three hours straight, I don't think we'll be able to get her back. In the meantime, though, I think I've found a stop-gap solution: the lunch date.

From 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. every weekday, we have excellent full-time childcare for Colin, and it doesn't require any special planning or extra money on our part to use some of that time for ourselves. So recently I made Kevin come downtown in the middle of the day and take me on a date to the local art museum. After all, we work only about 10 minutes away from each other by subway, and we had never visited the new Art Gallery of Alberta, which has been open for about a year and is only two blocks from my office.

The Matisse I missed.

I must confess something, though: this art major hardly paid attention to the art. I was much too giddy with the thrill of just being out--spontaneously--in the middle of the day with my husband to look carefully at the Matisse prints we had gone to see. It almost felt like we were having an affair, I guess because we were sneaking around behind someone's back--Colin's.

Nonetheless, it's certainly a thrill I plan to repeat, just as often as I can get my husband to take a little more time away from work. There are so many great restaurants downtown I've never tried--restaurants that don't allow children! And just next door to my office, there's a movie theatre, and right now, it's showing an "Oscar Marathon." I think it's a date!

Me (with a sculpture of a whale skeleton by Brian Jungen), feeling very much like a whale and not at all skeletal.

Flashback: Arkansans in Edmonton

Yesterday's post about our Christmas in Arkansas put me in mind of the last time I saw my parents--when they visited Edmonton in August. It was a whirlwind week, and I never quite managed to put up photos of their trip. It was was a great trip. They got to escape the hottest summer on Arkansas record, and we got some much needed help around the house. (I know, I know, I'm bad. When my parents come to visit we do things like install new light fixtures and undertake major yard work. But where would I be without them?)

We also did a few fun things, like visit the natural history museum, ride the old-timey trolley, and visit Fort Edmonton historic park. And fun was had by all--at least I think so. They are, at least, coming back next year.

This Past Weekend

This past weekend, Kevin and I took the family to Fort Edmonton, the city's "history" theme park. We're not much for theme parks (carnival rides make us both sick), but history theme parks--that we can do.

In fact, we both find Fort Edmonton so charming, we'd kind of like to move in there. It has a glamorous old hotel, The Hotel Selkirk, with a glossy mahogany bar. There's a replica of the original Fort Edmonton--a Hudson's Bay Company trading post for fur trappers in the early 1800s. Then there are wings dedicated to the city's pioneer days, its Edwardian boom, and its Depression-era bust. And even though the Edmonton of the past was a dirty, rugged place, in many ways it was a lot more beautiful than the city of the present--in my opinion at least.



Colin seemed to like it a lot, too. He loved talking to all of the farm animals in their many languages: "baaa" for the sheep, "naaay" for the horses," "wee-wee" for the piggies, and "duck-duck-duck" for the ducks. (If only he could speak English so well!) He loved running around on the wooden boardwalks, which Edmonton had in lieu of paved sidewalks at turn of the century. But most of all he loved the trains--especially the refurbished, 100-year-old Yukon & Pacific Railway train, which operated in the city from 1900 until about 1950. Colin's Granpa Bob was a lot less impressed. He rode the train on his first trip to Edmonton in 1940 and thought it was as uncomfortable now as it was then. (Yes, he's really that old.)

My only regret from our day at the park was that I didn't take more pictures because nearly every "scene" is picture-perfect, especially with a little one running around. And boy, did he run around! I had my hands full making sure he didn't run under the wheel of a train or a horse-drawn wagon. Oh, well! There's always next year.

Weekending

The past weekend we visited some friends at their family's lake house on Alberta's Skeleton Lake, a did all those wonderful "lake" things: picking and eating fresh fruit, knocking back a couple of cold ones, and eating and eating and eating -- all in the view of breathtaking scenery. I can't tell you how much I love it that we finally have friends in Edmonton (and that they have a lake house). It's always hard to develop a new social network after a big move, but it's been particularly hard for us this time around, since we have a young baby now--and no regular babysitter.

Fortunately, our friends have a young baby, too--a nine-month old little girl. In fact, that's how we met: at a group for new momsin the neighborhood. Only later did we discover that we all work for the same employer and in similar fields. It's been really nice getting to know people with whom we share so much in common -- including our stage of life as first-time parents. It's been even nicer that their baby is the older of the two: Colin can look up to her for new baby skills, and we can crib a couple of parenting queues from our friends who've already been there, done that. Why, after just a day of watching Miss N. (who is quite a skilled crawler), Colin was already rocking himself back and forth to get on all fours! And after just a day of watching N.'s parents feed their daughter all sorts of exotic solids, we decided to give it a try. Who knew that a six-month old would eat avocado -- all buy himself?!

It was a great, friend-filled weekend all 'round. It addition to good friends and good food at the lake, we went to another friend's wedding, while yet another friend of ours kept Colin for us. I can't remember the last time we had such a busy social schedule. But I think we're going to need another weekend to recover from our weekend.

Westmount

It's the time of year that Edmontonians love the most -- high summer! (And perhaps the only time of year that it's possible to love Edmonton.) The temperature is a perfect 75 degrees. The sun stays up until 10:00 p.m. And every flower in every garden is in full bloom: roses, daisies, petunias, peonies, delphiniums ... I try to take as much advantage of the good weather and the blooming flowers flowers as I can, so every evening after dinner I tie Colin to my chest and take Remy by the lead, and we go walking for an hour or two to enjoy the beauty of Nature and of the City.

If you had asked me this time last year what I thought of Edmonton, I would not have said anything remotely positive. In fact, I said some pretty nasty things (not that anyone was asking). Although I stand by my general critique of the city (that it is sprawling, has no trees or street life, and its houses are all ugly and overpriced), I am a little embarrassed by such an attitude now, because, in fact, there are few places in the city that are lovely, and I'm now lucky enough to live in one of them.

Westmount, as my neighborhood is known, is a little neighborhood of just six square blocks, with old houses, tree-lined streets, three playgrounds, an elementary school, and lots of lovely neighbors. That may not sounds like much, but it Edmonton it's pretty rare. Unlike the new subdivisions, where most Edmontonians live, Westmount has on-street parking, so the houses look like houses, instead of enormous garages with some living space tacked on as an afterthought. And unlike the new subdivisions, Westmount has sidewalks, so there's actually a lot of foot traffic. We know most of our neighbors because we meet them every evening when everyone goes out for a walk. And unlike anywhere else in town, Westmount also has trees -- old, leafy, hardwood trees -- perhaps the most sought-after feature in a prairie city with sunny, cloudless skies.

But my favorite thing about Westmount is the old architecture: noble, two-story Victorians with open-air porches and real glass windows. (That may sound like a strange detail to fixate on, but most houses in Edmonton have plexi-glass windows, which make them look like cheap plastic dollhouses.) In particular, there are two streets, 125th and 126th streets, that are zoned the "Westmount Historical District," and if I squint really hard, I can almost imagine I'm back home in Little Rock's Quapaw Quarter.


Alas, we do not live on either of these streets. We rent a few blocks over in a tiny little flat-faced house that was probably built in 1948. In fact, most of the houses in Westmount look like ours, and on our street there are no less than a dozen such houses with the exact same exterior and floorplan. In earlier times, I would have turned up my nose at such architectural monotony, and I would have thought houses like ours cramped and dismal. In fact, the rooms are a little cramped, each about four feet shorter on either side than they should be, but that is neither here nor there.

Had I been offered a house to rent in our neighborhood on first moving to Edmonton from Germany, I'm sure I would have echoed the horror uttered by of some of my favorite authors upon seeing North America after long sojourns in Europe: "Oh, the wild disheveled, backwoods look of everything when one firsts comes home" (Edith Wharton), "What monstrous ugliness!" (Henry James), "The Americans have an unequalled genius for making everything hideous!" (Vita Sackville-West). But I suppose it's a testament to just how beat-down I was last year, that I now look at my tiny, flat-face little house, and all the other, identical flat-faced little houses in my neighborhood, and I feel that I have died and gone to heaven. I mean, it could just be so much worse...


The only bittersweet note in my otherwise unqualified rhapsodies about Westmount is the fact that Kevin and I could never afford to own a house here. Not even our tiny, flat-faced little house. Although very few people in Edmonton seem to share our preference for tiny old houses on leafy streets close to the city center, enough of them do that they have bid up the prices in our neighborhood to exorbitant rates. The houses on 125th and 126th Street sell for $600,000 to a cool million. Little houses like ours start at $400,000 -- that's $400 a square foot ... starting price -- and most of them need extensive renovations on top of that. We've run the numbers every which way, and under no circumstances--short of a windfall like Kevin winning a Nobel Prize or me writing a best-selling novel--could we make a mortgage on such a house and still be financially responsible. And after watching the heart-wrenching housing bust in the U.S., we are committed to only buying a house if it's truly financially responsible for us.

So, we've looked into other neighborhoods, "younger" neighborhoods with no trees and no sidewalks, neighborhoods where we don't want to live anyway, but even there the starting price on a three-bedroom house is $400,000. $400,000 just seems to be the magic number in Edmonton; and it just seems like an impossibly high number for a city where we don't really want to be living in the long-term. It's difficult, though, to pull back from a decision -- buying a home -- that everyone else at our stage of life seems to be making. Somehow they can make the numbers work, why can we?

But every time I start to feel sorry for myself, I just try to remember that we live in a beautiful little house, in the greatest neighborhood in Edmonton, and we pay half as much in rent as we would for a mortgage on it. What's so bad about that? And just to strengthen my resolve, I repeat a little mantra I learned from a friend of a friend, a very successful artist who could buy any house he wanted but instead chooses to rent: "Home ownership is a Western construct." Then I say it again for good measure, and I tie Colin to my chest, grab Remy's leash, and we head out the door.

Remy, Colin and me on the trail...

A "pretty-ish sort of little wilderness" near our house ...

Turrets and delphiniums on 126th street ...

A path "littered" with roses...

Red beebalm and blue delphiniums, a perfect combination...

A wildflower garden...

The branches of the birch-willow...

I had never seen a red house until I came to Edmonton, but there are quite a few of them here. I think it's because the red is such a cheerful soldier against the long, white winter...

Remy is afraid of this cat...

Remy thinks they built this obstacle course just for him...

Another colo(u)rful house...

You can't buy canopy like this... or maybe you can, for $400,000+

The winner of the "Best Garden" contest ... Can I tell you how much it means to me that there is such a contest in Westmount?