An understatement. The wind could not decide if it wanted to restyle my hair a la Peg Bundy or exfoliate my skin, so it did both, with a bonus cornea scraping thrown for good measure. It was nasty, but I still walked for about 90 minutes through Rossdale and then over to Scona Hill, where the wind was marginally less blowy.
The weatherman’s hyperbolic promise of an epic deluge came to nought, as expected. The snow that fell last night dried up this morning. Whatevs. It was brown yesterday, it’s brown today, but there are strokes of green amongst the brown, which is encouraging.
The birds seemed to be on standby…literally standing by, waiting for the wind to subside. I ran across a goose by the Epcor side of the Walterdale Bridge, waiting for someone to come along with a camera. I happily obliged, but was only able to snap a few shots before it hissed at me. What a tease.
The thing about bad weather is that it can be deceiving when viewed through a window. In my experience, it’s usually better to be out than in, and unlike books and people, I try not to judge a day by its cover. A walk through the woods on a gloomy day is often a calming, contemplative pleasure. However, today was a perfect example of WYSIWYG. It was just as grim outside as it appeared to be inside. But I’m glad I walked. I’m always glad I walked, even when I get snowed on, or rained on, or if the wind slaps me around a bit. I can take it.