This is what I see when I look out my window right now:
I realize that's probably not all that terrible as far as snowstorms go, and about 50% of that is probably due to blowing snow that was already on the ground, but I've never seen it like this before. I'm wondering if you can call this a blizzard, just so I can finally say I've seen one.
Appropriately enough, we covered Québec culture today in one of my classes--specifically, Maria Chapdelaine--which, if you don't know, is a cornerstone of Québécois literature by a French guy who wanted to write about the hardship of the countryside/la patrimoine of the Québécois (though a good read, it's thoroughly depressing--unless you're like me and read it in French, in which case you won't understand enough of it to be depressed). And it takes place au milieu d'hiver. And as I trudged across piles of snow today with ice pellets slamming my face, my scarf and tuque (yes, tuque) frozen over...I felt for a moment like Miss Chapdelaine. Except, you know, for that whole being French thing...and not having three suitors, a dead mother, or the voice of Québec speaking to me.
And the food that was waiting for me inside was sub-par cafeteria nosh and NOT a vat full of maple syrup (which, I like to imagine is what they ate before poutine was invented--funny they were all so sad. If all I ate was maple products I'd amuse myself by bouncing off the walls).
Still. It was an experience. And I loved it. Though I need to stop gaping out the windows during class--my profs are going to think there's something wrong with me.