I am sitting in the dining room with my laptop this dark morning of December. It is after eight in the morning and it is still dark outside with no trace of the dawn that is yet to come. December on the Canadian prairies is marked by darkness. The sun will hopefully make an appearance about a quarter past nine, and with luck, will maintain its presence until just before five in the afternoon. The forecast is for some breaks in the cloud cover which has me smile in anticipation. When the sunshine breaks through and the rays are finally able to illuminate the wood-flooring, I begin to truly warm up. Without the sun’s rays, the house is never truly warm. Turning up the central heating can make it feel hot, but it is never the same. It’s a difference that you can fully appreciate when you allow your skin to communicate with the air around you.
I am sitting here wearing my usual costume of air, air that moves as the furnace and fan attempt to circulate warmth. Strange, the movement of air seems to accentuate the coolness rather than the warmth, stirring the stillness so that I truly feel the real temperatures against my skin. Without the forced circulation of air, I would feel warmer as my skin and internal thermostat adjusted. Soon the furnace will go silent and I will feel the stillness and the sense of being warm that will follow.
The only lights to be found in this early morning darkness come from my Christmas tree and street lights outside my windows. The drapes are open to let in whatever light can be found. Since it is Sunday morning there is almost no traffic on the street, no one walking by my windows. As the first undoing of night begins to occur, I watch the horizon begin to appear with a thin cloak of ice haze which has painted the outer world in hoar frost. The world belongs to me.