The cold of winter comes to us and each year we are shocked just a little. Try to remember in mid-Summer what it’s like to have zero degree temperatures and knee-high drifts of snow - and more, and it’s nigh impossible. But then it comes ‘round again - that Season, and we soon get acquainted once again, as we must.

Not that everyone gets snow or this kind of cold. Some have it worse (or better if you like). And some have never seen or experienced it.

In Ontario where I live, we get a fairly even and equal distribution of seasonal splendour - the Four Seasons that Antonio Vivaldi set so beautifuly to music score. And wasn’t there a movie about that too? The cycles of life, of a marriage, a friendship, all moving through their (seemingly) appointed seasons, though we contribute also, to be sure.

Actually, mostly, I love the four seasons, the almost equal distribution of heat and cold and in-between most years. I’d be bored with sameness, I think - though perhaps I’d like to try that out for once. And, maybe, I could write about it, a no-winter experience: - ‘The Year of Living Warmly’ - My Raynaud’s syndrome would be interested, perhaps arrested in part.

Shakespeare writes of the cold and wind of winter. 'Blow, blow thou winter wind . . .’  I’ve tried to capture just a hint of his message and to remind us as he did so poetically, arrestingly, to try to keep as warm as we can manage - both inside and out.

Or as Jesus said: ‘Love God and love others, just as you love yourself.’