prompt: some like it hot

Last week, the maples that make up the last little wooded area on my home town’s territory made their last stand, their vibrant red hues blazing in defiance of shortening days and plunging temperatures. Raging against the dying of the light, it seemed. This week, their leaves have turned crisp, no longer softly rustling in the breeze; now they crackle and crunch like the chrysales of so many butterflies flown south in search of sunlight and warmth. How I wish I had wings like the geese, to lift my head and take to the skies. It’s a common wish, one I hold dear year-round, but one which intensifies every October. I can imagine their sore shoulders and their struggle to continue, lest the cold and snow catch up and trap them mercilessly with no access to food or water to fuel the next stage of their journey. But are their bodies as sore as my heart aches once the last days of Indian summer have gone? Oh, to be a bear and sleep my way through winter, waking only once the suns’ rays begin to feel warm on my skin once more. To dream of warmer days through the bleakest of Februaries.

The forecast calls for snow for many areas of the province tonight; just the thought makes me want to cry. And to those who would have me embrace the season, I will say I have tried skiing and snowboarding, and I have absolutely no sense of equilibrium on a slope. I'm much more effective on a flat surface, but ice skates give me blisters the size and colour of loonies within an hour or so (and no, it's not that they aren't laced up tightly enough - I've had them laced by a college-level athlete, with exactly the same results. It's just something about my arches, I guess.) So that leaves me with what? Cross-country skiing, snowshoeing, and ice fishing? It's just not my thing. So I batten down the hatches and wait for the storm to pass, finding comfort in warm blankets and hot chocolate, and dreaming of May.

Oh. Wait. Oops, it appears that the original writing prompt had more to do with chili than with...chilly. In that sense, I must agree that spices are trips. As far as my taste buds are concerned, I'll try anything once. Call it extreme culinary sports. Although, I must admit, there comes a point where the peppers are so strong that all that remains is heat. Just like an overly bright light is completely blinding, spices can completely obliterate any surrounding flavours. That's where I draw the line, personally, not because I can handle the heat, but because there's more to the dish before me than just heat (or at least, there should be.) So put a dab of wasabi on my sushi, add some jalapenos (now, where the heck did the tilde go on my laptop?), a touch of habanero, or the smoky smoothness of chipotle peppers to my quesadilla, and mix up your smoothest curries. I'm in. (Although on second thought, my stomach also wishes to mention that a dish of butter chicken will do just fine, too, in a pinch.)

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