The fact of the matter is that I love Winter.

I love how the trees lined up on the sidewalk steadily fade into a haze of whiteness.  I love trying and failing to catch snowflakes on my tongue.  I love walking down Whyte Ave during the snowfall and seeing just cold haze and neon lights.  I love Chrismas trees and I love listening to the Kokopelli version of Wintersong until I don't need to press play anymore to hear the song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YHxeiEJ09PI

But at the same time, it amazes me every year how the first snowfall seems to change everything.  You wake up one morning and the whole world's still asleep, hidden under this soft coat of downy frozen water.  Pieces of ice are floating down the river like sugar spun lilypads, and there's a certain element of sadness in the air.  Joy, sure.  Bells, laughter, pretty twinkling lights, candy canes, hot chocolate and love - yes, but at the same time there's a kind of calm melancholy, not sadness, not to the extent of wanting to cry, but a sort of ecstasy at the same time.  Maybe it's just me, but either way I wish I could understand it.

All I know, is all I want is to sit in a Second Cup on Whyte Ave and 105th street and drink hot chocolate.