Forty-five years ago, around this time of year,  I had paid a weekend visit to my fiancée in Saskatchewan and headed out Sunday afternoon for the six hour drive back to the Manitoba town where I managed a country grain elevator. I hadn’t gone very far when I came up behind a semi that was going far too slow for my taste. The snow was blowing, but I knew I could see far enough to pass this slowpoke. I was alongside the semi when I saw headlights coming toward me through the drifting snow. I hit the brakes, hard, and was just able to tuck back in behind the semi before the oncoming vehicle whizzed by. That took all the hurry out of me for the rest of that day.

Tomorrow they will be celebrating my cousin Julia’s ninety-first birthday in Moose Jaw. I would dearly love to be there, but the forecast is for snow, winds up to 50km/h and a possibility of freezing rain in the afternoon and evening. The highway to Moose Jaw passes through a river valley with a fairly steep descent and climb that worries me just thinking about the possibility of ice on the pavement. I am just eighteen years younger than Julia, my eyesight isn’t as good as it was 45 years ago, and I’m not as brave (foolhardy?) as I was back then. We are going to stay put. Maybe there will be a better day in the near future to make that 2½ hour trip.