Around here, in Quebec province, Canada, October brings beautiful colours and cold weather.
Ergo fuzzy blankets and soft sweaters and wonderful leaves smell and lovely goose quacking and hot chocolate on the weekend – with five tiny marshmallows if you’re my kiddo.
Today, sun and wind brought the thermometer up to… 25 degree Celsius.
About 8 to 10 degrees Celsius.
There’s a reason why weather plays a major role in any story, hee hee.
It impacts everything and everyone, of course, and in infinite ways too.
Right now, at almost 8pm, it’s 21 degrees out there. Even during the summer, nights rarely are this warm.
For me, the girl who wishes, every single year, it would snow on her birthday, this weather is nothing less than sad bad luck.
Close to a nightmare, really, if I let my thoughts wander about my kiddo’s future.
Forget snow. Will there even be drinkable water available?
Since, no matter what, I still believe in human beings – otherwise, why write stories ?
Give it one or two other deadly pandemics, top with a good ten years of drought and wildfires and floods, plus a few devasting hurricanes, sprinkled with worldwide energy shortage and stupid-to-the-very-core wars.
And then. Maybe. Humans will stop destroying themselves for the sake of being able to buy cheap stuff that will be thrown in the garbage sooner than it should.
Until then, I will keep wishing for a bit of snow at the end of October in Quebec province, Canada.
Be kind to yourself, dear fellow writer, and happy writing.