I love my new camera. The only thing I hate about it is the lack of subject matter. Hunter is great subject matter, don't get me wrong, and I love taking pictures of the little tyke, but I ache to get outside with him. I want to take pictures of his little toes in tall grass and I want to see how he reacts to the outside world - catch it all on film.

We got dumped on again last night - another heavy dusting of snow to make everything more difficult. Walking, driving, getting out is now ten times harder again. It was just starting to become more simple, more plausible and now, we are pushed back ten steps. It really sucks. I am anxious to get out walking, taking Hunter for long walks in the stroller, but fuck that. Mother Nature, you hag.

I believe this is called 'cabin fever.' The last few weeks of February is always hard in the prairies. You are so close to the end of this long, dry, hard winter. You survived another one and the dawn of something warmer and easier is just on the horizon, and then you get goddamn dumped upon again, pushed back just a few more steps.

Completely frustrating.

Unless you live on the prairies, then you have no idea about how hard then can be, how draining. The land has no topography. nothing interesting to look at - just a long line that the sun rises and sets on over and over again. I once heard that Manitoba is the only place on Earth where you can see the sun set and the moon rise at the same time. Just find a nice, long open field (and trust me, that ain't so hard) and at dusk you can see the spectacle - the round shinning orb of the sun on one side of you, the cold metallic circle of the moon on the other. When the wind picks up, there is nothing to stop it and the cold can chill you to the marrow of your bones. No mountains, trees only seem to grow in clumps in special areas, farmland everywhere. If it weren't for the tall buildings of the city, Winnipeg wouldn't be much different than the country-side.

You can hear the wind howl here. Growing up, I remember how the wind would make that whistling sound on those blustery nights, outside my bedroom window. You knew when you heard that howl that it was deathly cold outside and I always hated it when the dog whimpered to be let outside. I would stand in the garage, and the howl would be amplified. The metal garage door would rattle, and my toes would freeze on the pavement while I waited for the dog. You could feel the water on your eyes ice up, the tiny moister in your nostrils freeze and sting the tiny nose-hairs that they clung to.

I hate the prairies sometimes.

I also love them. Driving down the country roads, specially during the fall harvest is stunning. The colors of the fields, the bushes and trees are stronger than any painters pallet. The long, amazingly long field and the way they met the sky and formed that beautiful straight line of horizon - crisp colors, no mixing. It's breath-taking.

I'll always be a prairie girl, this is true. The flat-lands have seeped into my blood and there they will always remain. I love the mountains, I love the valley, I love the Canadian Shield but I will always be home on the prairies.