It begins. . .

This afternoon was the first actual snow of the season, and as first actual snows go, it was a good one: leaving a fine white layer on the grass and rooftops and leaves, and soaking down the streets. And, naturally, I was downtown at my office when it began, so I got to ride home in it. As I type, I'm thanking Quetzalcoatl for creating hot chocolate - one of the really nice things about the snowy season.

So, here comes the winter. We knew it was coming. I know that by spring I'll be desperate for a chance to ride without my shoulders hunched, my brain on overdrive working on balance and watching for ice. But for now, I don't mind that much that it started snowing today. Here goes: that time of the year when I get to feel really badass because I didn't put away the bike.

I don't mind the cold. You can dress for that. I don't really mind the wet, you can dress for that too, although I wasn't dressed for it today and the inside of the left leg of my jeans got soaked up to about six inches above my knee (the other leg was rolled up to keep it away from the chain).

What gets me is the dirt. The incredible amount of spontaneously emerging fine black grit that appears the moment it's "winter," clings to everything you wear, and finely powders the floor of wherever you keep your bike.

That, and when it's actually, actively, snowing it's much more difficult to see, because you're blinking at a rate of about three times a second.

Oh, yeah, and on the first snow? I really mind not knowing whether the drivers around me were good little Canadians and got their winter tires put on before November kicked in.