"The heat can be uncomfortable, But the cold can be scary."

I laughed, my Newfoundland provided supreme blend of toughness said these mainland folk didn't know the REAL Cold. I laughed it off when It had been said over a beer in that chilly little hole of a bar in Northren Alberta.

With the spoils of a 'real day's work' still under my fingernails and the bruise on my right forearm taking color nicely, the beer had quickly refocused my attention away from this 'bullshit' warning and onto other things like treasures, riches, and glory.

Today is a different story.
I have never experience cold like this. Cold that's so cold that people panic, stores close, and City transit breaks down. Buses won't start and trains pull into a station along the line to stop, only to be unable start again. Homeless people are found frozen to death and any car without a block heater won't start without a few kettles of hot water pitched over the engine block.

Luckily, these tales made their way to me via msn, tv, or the telephone, while my cold feet remained curled under me with a warm mug of coffee resting atop.

But as the day progressed, cabin fever began to take hold. I looked out the window. It was a beautiful sunny day by all respects, only the billowing chimneys atop every house spoke of any warning. I licked my lips, dry and papery as they were and figured, "I need to go to the store, some lip balm would be ideal."

I put on my ski jacket, gloves, hat, and capped it all off with a pair of tennis sneakers.

I left the warmth and began to walk to the store. The cold was biting with burning teeth under my pant cuffs, sinking its teeth in just above my ankle socks. My eyes seemed to make a slight creaking, cracking sound everytime they moved, but especially when they blinked. I registered a strange metallic taste in my mouth, I could feel my lips screaming with strain, just wanting to crack and tear.

Little More than halfway through my journey along the side of the neighborhood football field I turned round to gaze back at what I was walking through, maybe it was shorter to go back.

I squinted, not quite believeing what I was looking at.
A foggy, gradually dispersing trail hung low in the air behind me. The immediate shock of a possible trailing ghost soon faded.
As I turned my head, a tinkling, crackling sound started. I realized the scruff below my lips was covered in ice. The side of my trademark blue, red, and gold tuque was blended with strands of ice, all cracking, falling away like the lightest snow.

I breahted. My eyes cracked and creaked, focusing on the sight of the billowing cloud from Old man Winter's mouth.

My breath was freezing as soon as I exhaled. Huge plumes of White rushed out of my mouth. Spiraling and twisting together in the air. The moisture hanging as a light fog, unable to rise, weighed down as it froze into large enough sparkles of ice to fall lightly from the air.

I quickened my pace...