We figured the storm had passed us by, since all we had seen in three days was gently falling snow that built up on the tree branches to make them look nice and Christmassy.

For three days we waited for the storm of the century to hit in all its fury. We had advance notice of this catastrophic event, so Other Half was careful to stash away some extra food in her room: some cookies Mother had sent, a couple of bottles of rabbit that a friend had sent, two or three bottles of jam from another friend, and several bags of hard tack in case the storm lasted more than a week.

On the third day, we figured the storm had passed us by, since all we had seen in those three days was fairly continuous, gently falling snow that gradually built up on the tree branches to make them look nice and Christmassy. (I know Christmas is gone. I’m just making appropriate metaphors here.)

Then I had a call from my parents.

“We’ve been so worried about you,” said Mother, “what with that big storm and all. We thought you might be completely snowed in.”

“Big storm? What big storm? It hasn’t hit here yet,” I said. “We’ve been waiting for it for three days.”

“Well,” she said, “it’s all over the TV news.” So we tuned into one of the local TV stations. Mother was right.

Downtown Toronto was in a snarl. Pearson Airport was in an even bigger snarl. The mayor of Toronto was interviewed and he looked positively panic-stricken. He had called in the Armed Forces, he said, and was on the verge of declaring a state of emergency in the Greater Greater Toronto Area (GTA).

Neighbours should be helping neighbours, he went on in melodramatic tones, especially those who are old, and weak, and disabled. We can all survive this, the mayor said, if we pull together.

Is helping your neighbour survive a storm a new concept in Toronto?

Then the news showed a long line of these army tank-like affairs with tracks instead of wheels rolling into downtown Toronto. Standing in the lead vehicle was the commander and standing with him, waving gallantly at the cameras, was none other than His Worship, the mayor of the great city of Toronto. Now there’s a man who knows how to get votes. In point of fact, the city never did use the hundreds of troops brought in for the snow emergency.

The newsreader describing the chaos in downtown Toronto obviously had experience at the Stratford Festival. His voice was positively stentorian. Apart from that, he looked decidedly shaken.

“The winds, laden with snow, are howling out of the west,” he intoned in a voice even more dramatic than the mayor’s, “at 26 kilometres an hour!”

Twenty-six kilometres an hour? I can break wind faster than that. So can Father, so could his father, and his father before him. It’s a family trait, although not one we boast about a lot.

This is not to say Toronto didn’t have snow. It did, and a fair amount of it. But blizzard? Storm? No way. We’ve had bigger storms in Newfoundland on May 24th. The problem was that Toronto didn’t know what to do with the little bit of snow that it had.

In fact, if you want to know how much snow actually fell, why not come up and see for yourself. There’s no hurry. You can wait till the kids get out of school in June and meander your way upalong for your summer holidays.

“The winds, laden with snow, are howling out of the west,” intoned the newsreader in a voice even more dramatic than the mayor’s, “at 26 kilometres an hour!”

Those of us not native to the GTA could only shake our heads in bewilderment. OH walked to her abode that night at the frenzied height of the storm, and when she got there called back to say what a lovely walk she’d had in the gently falling snow.

If God was looking to see any little sparrows fall, like the hymn says He does, a brief glance at Toronto would have assured Him that all was well with His little feathered creations. I looked out through the window and saw several sparrows cavorting in the snow. Granted, the snow was up to their little knees, but I didn’t see one wearing snowshoes.

One woman was telling OH, by way of explanation for their dismal failure at clearing away the snow, that they hadn’t had any snow for the past two years. OH was equal to the task.

“Newfoundland hasn’t had any snow for the past two years either,” she responded, “but we weren’t foolish enough to get rid of our snowplows.”

The Toronto mayor was interviewed again a couple of nights ago. He admitted to being worried about flooding once all this now had started to melt. I guess the interviewer couldn’t help himself.

“What will you do then,” he asked, “call in the navy?”

All that aside, I was talking to Father last night.

“Great weather down here, my son,” he enthused. “Ten above today.”

Oh, to be in Newfoundland, now that winter’s here.