Winter

I never knew the meaning of the word winter until I moved from England to Quebec. Until then it was a kind of non-season, a long and dull dead zone between autumn and spring. Occasionally it would stop raining and even more rarely it would freeze. Once in 14 years the fountains froze in Torquay, and on one memorable occasion an overnight snowfall of an inch resulted in dozens of accidents and absenteeism at work on a majestic scale. In Quebec its not like that. In Quebec you learn the value of a bobble hat. You learn that when it warms up to -15°C, it really does feel warm. You learn to read the wind-chill factor before you read the temperature. You learn that the most important thing to have in the car is a shovel and a broom. In January in Quebec, turning your face to the sun to feel the warmth is like turning your face to the moon. The land turns into a gigantic playground. The days are clear and sunny and photographic conditions are excellent.