Winter is evil. I know this is not a universally held opinion, and while I don’t want to yuck the skier or snowboarder’s yum, come on. Black ice, killer roads, snow drifts, -40 temperatures, the sun setting at 4 p.m. — winter is evil. Terrible. Gross.

And it brings out the best in people. Doesn’t it?

When my son has his very close encounter with a concrete barrier on the second day of winter’s awful roads, strangers immediately stopped, made sure he was ok, and got his truck to a safe place.

After giving up on trying to make it up the hill to his house, my love parked his car by the road and then spent an hour helping half a dozen other cars get up or off a snow-drift covered urban hill of death. And then, they pushed his car up the hill and into his parkade.

Much as I hate the sound, smell and environmental cost of snowblowers, the dude two streets over who owns one clears snow off the entire block with his.

And much as I hate my next door neighbour, he’s shovelled my entryway and driveway, as well as any car parked in said driveway, with his snowblower.

He’s also attached it to his bicycle to make it go faster — he’s still biking in this weather although not because he wants to save the world — and he’s also used it, consistently, between 10 p.m. and midnight as I’m desperately trying to fall asleep. 

It’s ok. I have ear plugs.

Also, as much as I hate my neighbour, I recognize that he’s doing his best to use the snowblower for good. Evil winter is bringing out the best in him, too.

Are you judging me for hating my next door neighbour? You shouldn’t, until you live next door to him for a while. According to the gossip on the street, he and his roommate-partner-girlfriend-common law wife (she insists they’re just roommates; he has a different spin on their relationship), have been in the middle of a violent domestic break up for going on twenty years. He screams and calls her terrible, terrible names. For hours. At some point, some neighbour breaks down and calls the police. I’ve done it once myself. It’s awful. How can someone, anyone scream at anyone, much less a person they possibly claim to love, like that?

Almost every day. Sometimes, for hours.

Then he apologizes. To me. Perhaps to her, I don’t know. I never hear the apologies, only the screaming.

On the days when I can access my deeply buried compassion, still not back at its pre-pandemic levels, I remind myself that however awful my experience is as next-door-neighbour to the neighbour from hell, it’s nothing compared to the hell he and his partner-roommate-whatever have created for themselves.

She’s not an agency-less victim, by the way. She’s his active enabler and enthusiastic participant in the fights. She just doesn’t scream — she whispers her venom. I only hear it when we’re all outside, which I try to avoid happening.

Anyway, point: The terrible, terrible neighbour is shovelling my driveway when snow comes. I still hate him. But I also appreciate him.

Hate is a strong word, you say. You hate winter, you hate your neighbour. Can you dial it down, you say. Dislike. Don’t enjoy. How about that.

No. I hate. Don’t weaken my passion. I hate winter. I hate my neighbour.

I love the strangers on the roads who stop their cars at the risk of never ever being able to move them again to help someone else get unstuck from a snow drift or a stretch of ice.

I hate, hate, hate the guy leaning of his horn because he doesn’t understand what flashing hazard lights mean. But I won’t stop my car and go yell at him. He’s already suffering. Right? That’s why he’s leaning on the horn.

My neighbour is also suffering. Constantly. I’m aware of that, I see the signs of mental illness and addiction, I see the eleven year old — maybe seven year old boy — who got totally screwed over by life and is now stuck in his loops and patterns, living in a nightmare, inflicting said nightmare on the people around him. He does not want to be an asshole, this I believe. 

He can’t help it. I can understand that — and I can hate him. I’m no enlightened Buddhist.

It’s late at night and it hasn’t snowed today, but the snowblower next door is out. I shudder and put in earplugs. Winter is evil. My next door neighbour, while not evil, is definitely not good. And prone to engaging in evil acts. Yelling and swearing at your roommate-partner is evil. I can hate him and his snowblower and also be grateful that he shovels my driveway.

Human beings are complex.

Winter is evil.

But it does bring out the best in people.