I got on the wrong bus a week ago. I stepped off green grass onto the bus, and in the 20 odd pages that my attentions were away from the window, the scenery changed. It wasn't until I got near my stop that I looked up and realized there was snow everywhere. Not just little bits here and there, but blankets enough to leave footprints. I had taken the bus to winter. Step on in one world, step off into another.

I must say it was one of the best ways to move into winter. No slow crawl into the frozen months. It was more like a magic trick. A dark cloth was spread over the world, a little misdirection here and then ABRACADABRA. The cloth is removed and everything is magically and drastically change.

I'm not the biggest fan of winter. Yes there are good things about it, but I feel the cold generally out ways the benefits. But I do make peace with it. I accept the things that it does have to offer and pay winter's exorbitant price for them. So today I performed the peace ceremony. It involves baking the seasons first batch of ginger snaps while drinking something warm and listening to my new winter album. This year is the The Wilderness of Manitoba's newest LP (ironically a band from Ontario). I am ready to face off against the winter months with a gingersnap in my mouth, a cup of tea in my hands and sweet voices in my ear.

She

I bought it for the beautiful cover, but I didn't expect to enjoy it this much. I love when potent poetry and philosophy surface in an adventure/philosophy story. What better way to dissect life than to look at it's exaggeration.

"Though the face before me was that of a young woman of certainly not more than thirty years, in perfect health, and the first flush of ripened beauty, yet it had stamped upon it a look of unutterable experience, and of deep acquaintance with grief and passion. Not even the lovely smile that crept about the dimples of her mouth could hide this shadow of sin and sorrow. It shone even in the light of the glorious eyes, it was present in the air of majesty, and it seemed to say: 'Behold me, lovely as no woman was or is, undying and half-divine; memory haunts me from age to age, and passion leads me by the hand - evil have I done, and with sorrow have I made acquaintance from age to age, and from age to age evil I shall do, and sorrow shall I know till my redemption comes.'"

A portrait of She-who-must-be-obeyed. The best and most lovely description of the book. The explanation on the back cover was almost wrong and captured none of the books appeal.

"So I lay and watched the stars come out by thousands, till all the immense arch of heaven was sewn with glittering points, and every point a world! Here was a glorious sight by which man might well measure his own insignificance! Soon I gave up thinking about it, for the mind wearies easily when it strives to grapple with the Infinite, and to trace the footsteps of the Almighty as he strides from sphere to sphere, or deduce His purpose from His works. Such things are not for us to know. Knowledge is to the strong, and we are weak. Too much wisdom would perchance blind our imperfect sight, and too much strength would make us drunk, and overweight our feeble reason till it fell, and we were drowned in depths of our own vanity. for what is the first result of man's increased knowledge interpreted from Nature's book by the persistent effort of his purblind observation? Is it not but too often to make him question the existence of his Maker, or indeed of any intelligent purpose beyond his own? The truth is veiled, because we could no more look upon her glory than we can upon the sun. It would destroy us. Full knowledge is not for man as man is here, for his capacities, which he is apt to think so great, are indeed but small. The vessel is soon filled, and, were one-thousandth part of the unutterable and silent wisdom that directs the rolling of those shining spheres, and the force which makes them roll, pressed into it, it would be shattered into fragments. Perhaps in some other place and time it may be otherwise, who can tell? Here the lot of man born of the flesh is but to endure midst toil and tribulation, to catch at the bubbles blown by Fate, which he calls pleasures, thankful if before they burst they rest a moment in his hand, and when the tragedy is played out, and his hour comes to perish, to pass humbly whither he knows not."

"If a lamp be in his reach to light him through the darkness, he must needs cast it down because it is no star."

Regarding man's endless ambition and its insatiable nature. My favorite line plucked from a multiple page discussion (much too large to post, though one of the best parts of the book) on the benefits and disadvantages of mortality and immortality.

Lady Grey

It's official. My bike gets check out way more than I do. Stopped at a light, compliment given, conversation on the awesomeness of my bike ensues. Locking up my bike at the bank, compliment given, conversation on the awesomeness of my bike ensues. Passing someone on the street, compliment given, conversation on the awesomeness of my bike ensues. Waiting for the canon salute at the legislature on Remembrance Day, compliment given, conversation on the awesomeness of my bike ensues. Locking up my bike at work, expletive compliment given ("f***ing killer bike" from a cute girl no less), no conversation on awesomeness of the bike though. Sitting in Stella's eating breakfast and I see outside a group of 3 men looking over and touching her. Spinning her wheels, examining her 1950s leather seat. Etc, etc.

At least I am meeting and becoming the envy of the cyclists of Winnipeg. I have decided to name her Lady Grey.

Today I learned what a pollywog is, discussed the racism of some of my childhood literature, smoothed some ruffled feathers, reveled at a few surprisingly profound pages in my current novel, made a child laugh and biked bundled up through a night of lightly falling snow. Among other things of course.

I have a special place in my heart for fairy tales (and the work of Tom Gauld).