Usually around this time of year - many of us begin to feel the drab of winter begin to take its hold on us. 

The short days, the lack of sunlight, and the extremely cold weather can all contribute to a slightly depressing mood if we allow them to. So what can we do to prevent this from happening?

Fortunately I'm one of those strange people who absolutely LOVES winter! I love everything about it. In fact, the more snow - the better. Frigid temperatures? Bring 'em on! I've never been one to suffer a case of the winter blues, so I have trouble empathizing with those who do. I mean, what's not to love?

I will say, however, that my love for winter probably has less to do with good fortune, and more to do with my attitude towards it. I embrace the cold. I thrive on the snowstorms. And I even find a way to appreciate having to shovel my walkway or scrape the ice off of my windshield. These are little blessings in disguise to me.

I also have my parents to thank. 

Oddly enough - my folks - who both came to Canada as immigrants from England, a NON-winter country - decided to embrace the season of winter since the very first time they arrived back in the 1960s. 

Libby had an advantage. Her father benefitted from some hardy winter blood in his veins, having grown up in the Black Forest region of Germany, climbing mountains and skiing them as a boy. She was introduced to skiing soon after moving to Canada by friends and co-workers, and quickly picked it up. 

My Dad however, was entirely new to ice and snow, and the idea of speeding down the side of a mountain with two wooden planks strapped to his feet must have been terrifying. But Libby somehow got him to join her on the slopes and taught that 'ol British Bloke how to ski!

This love for winter was something our parents nurtured together, and which they instilled in us as a family since the time we were born. I can still remember skating on outdoor rinks or being pushed down a tobogganing hill by one of my older brothers.

By the time I was 6 years old, we were all skiing as a family - both downhill and cross country. Some of my favourite memories include Nordic ski days through the Morgan Arboretum with my old man - where we'd stop to feed the chickadees with steam rising off the tops of our heads. I now ski those same trails with my own kids, and remember why I've always loved it so much, and how much I cherish those memories of my Dad. 

When you make the choice to lock yourself up indoors and "endure" the cold, dark days of winter... you subconsciously frame an entire season in a negative way. On the contrary, those of us who see the beauty in the frigid outdoors, find a way to alter that perspective entirely, and winter becomes a season of magic and wonder.

Just yesterday, I played hooky with my oldest brother Scott. We blocked the time off to drive up north and back-country ski at Mont Alta in Val-David. This used to be a regular ski hill with an old double chair-lift that was famous for no snowmaking, no machine grooming, and the best poutine in the Laurentians. The chairlift is no longer there, but the mountain still attracts diehard skiers who are willing to climb or "skin" up the mountain themselves. I've been doing what's now known as "Alpine Touring" for the past 8 years now. This was Scott's first time trying it out - but something tells me it won't be his last!