Pass the Rum Swizzle

The sandy beach is calling

Aaahhh, idle day-dreaming…

It’s what we warm-weather people like to do as we stare outside during the winter, watching yet another snow flurry (or worse than flecks – heavy snow) add to the increasing depths of whiteness in the yard and on the road. Now just imagine the white sandy beaches of Bermuda, clear turquoise waters, relaxing under a shade umbrella with a lovely tall glass of fruity rum swizzle. You feelin’ betta, man – right?

I’m not sure I can handle any more news bulletins from friends and neighbours about their vacation getaway plans. Yes, yes, I admit I’m envious of those fortunate people who can afford to escape the cold for even a few days come January. My husband and I have again chosen the frugal path of clearing any outstanding debts from the holiday/birthday season. There’s just not enough in the coffers for a holiday in the sun. As much as I love living where I do in this great country of Canada, the reality of winter north of the 49th parallel sucks big time. It lasts longer than I like.

Garden nurseries want to capitalize on us house-bound gardeners at this time of year as well. Why do you think there is a surge of seed catalogues and glossy booklets of colourful perennials and shrubs showing up in the mail right now, hmmm? What else is one to do except look out into the snow-laden landscape and plan and dream of possibilities and green shoots. (If it’s one thing that unites gardeners, it’s hope and a vision for the future.) Over a decade ago, that’s exactly the process that launched a big excavation and landscape plan for our backyard. I just get so impatient waiting for things to thaw out so I can go poke around in the dirt.

And even while many of the retailers at the mall are still trying to dispose of their winter stock, others are promoting skin-baring fashions for Spring in an effort to make the general consumer believe the end of our Canadian winter is just around the corner and we’d better be ready. Maybe those “snow-birds” I mentioned earlier are keen on picking up some golf or beach attire, but one look out at the icy parking lot would have me considering the liquidation sale of sweaters and gloves. If I could stowaway in their luggage, though, it might be a different story. I guess I just haven’t found the right traveller with a huge steamer trunk.

So here’s my plan: I am going to put on my craziest Hawaiian shirt, capris and sandals, then go sit in front of my SAD light with the latest gardening catalogue and a glass of fruit punch. (If my husband finds me like that, I will certainly have to explain myself.) I figure if a gal soaking in a tub with Calgon bath oil can be “taken away”, then I have a pretty good shot at those white sands of Bermuda. I close my eyes and aaahhh … just the right amount of rum!