Every ten years or so we get a huge drop of snow. The last time it started snowing like this was the night that my youngest nephew was born. My sister went into labour on Boxing Day, and Lucas was born on December 27th. We watched the icicles grow longer and longer outside the hospital windows as the wickedly cold winter wind howled like a banshee, swirling powdery soft flakes into desert-like dunes and drifts. Yesterday a black-capped chickadee found itself stranded inside the laundry room, and Greg went to the rescue. The bird was surprisingly calm as Greg brought him in to say ‘hello’ before releasing him into the gray and silent afternoon. Snow brings all kinds of surprises. We walked downtown and back- taking our constitutionals like the sea front companions described by Dylan Thomas in “A child’s Christmas in Wales”. The only thing absent was the sea and the “smoke of their inextinguishable briars”. Today I captured evidence of the blizzard, forever to be sealed in digital analogue, as proof to my Albertan offspring that the Canadian winter has officially arrived on Vancouver Island.