What would Aristotle say?

This morning, tiny, feeble, sparse drops of snow did fall. It begins.

Fall was pretty until now. The leaves were fiery and the weather was right. Cool and crisp. Now, it is the time of rain and gloom and frost. Everyone is feeling the panic of winter's roaring approach. It's palpable, the panic that is. Well, so is the approach of winter. Funny how some countries don't even go through this. They just wear the same moderate clothing all year round for their moderate weather. I think Canadian identity is essentially just the pride of enduring weather. Of course, there are other countries that endure harsh seasons, but they all seem to have other things to be proud of. Not that I'm complaining. I like Canada. I like Canadians. I like weather.

So I have work until the end of November. Then, the void. As predicted, having set quitting in motion, a veil of misery has lifted which, ironically, makes me feel more capable of working. Catch 22 indeed. Sometimes, actually often, depression doesn't allow for sound and reasonable decisions. I want to move forward anyway, in spite of it. I'd like to believe that's possible no matter how crappy a decision is intentionally or unintentionally made. Of course, probabilities dictate certain outcomes, but pure randomness has it's influence as well. What am I trying to form here in my rhetoric? Ethos, pathos or logos? Or a weak combination of all three? Sigh.

In any case, perhaps I can just believe that somehow, I will find a way to make it all work out and stick with that feeling, otherwise, what's the point. Another rhetorical question.

Meanwhile, I must admit to a perverse delight in the first sign of snow. Winter is harsh. It's also powerful and beautiful and I like how it takes us all over and commands us to adapt. Like Good King Wenceslas, looking out on the feast of Stephen, I enjoy the snow laying round about, deep and crisp and even.

At least this December, being out of work, I can go full on pagan each day. I think I will enjoy that. I think it will help me feel happier. Seeing the snow and bare trees, the cloudy skies and sparrows, the trickling of cold streams or the freezing or puddles. I will delight in them. I will mark my footsteps (my good page) and try to tread them boldly. Or something.

I'll figure it out or I won't. That's all.