Minus Thirty-Four with Windchill!

What the hell, man? We haven't had any cold weather all winter, and now suddenly this? I think my sister and her husband brought it up from Ontario. All the way to work this morning I was thinking of these lines from a song of mine:

This winter morning is a dream.
Look at the harbour: it's a bowl of steam.

I guess it didn't seem as enchanting on the way home tonight, because all I could think about then was this poem by Alden Nowlan:

Canadian January Night

Ice storm: the hill
a pyramid of black crystal
down which the cars
slide like phosphorescent beetles
while I, walking backwards in obedience
to the wind, am possessed
of the fearful knowledge
my compatriots share
but almost never utter:
this is a country
where a man can die
simply from being
caught outside.

- Andrew