The frozen tundra of Fredericton

As the frigid air has ushered in an unwelcome blanket of snow, our quaint city of Fredericton has disappeared. Where once stood a proud city on the banks of the St. John River, a place where descendents of the old loyalists would show off their heritage to all that would grace their fine home, has been replaced with this frozen wasteland. Mother Nature has once again turned her back on these fine settlers in a way that only Samuel de Champlain and his fearless lot may have experienced in 1604. Izzie and I have had little choice but to bundle up and take our chances in this brave new world of ice, snow and plunging temperatures.
Left to fend for ourselves, I have deputized myself to be the provider of food and shelter for our home. My Acadian ancestors were once forced to survive in potentially lethal situations -- mainly caused by my English ancestors, but I digress -- so I will simply call on those past experiences and transform myself into a hunter and gatherer. How hard could that be? Sadly, all the things that can be hunted or gathered seem to be covered by this snow and I may not be able to complete my task before naptime. Perhaps I better call maman, she'll know what to do.
Although clearly the smaller link to our fight for survival in this intolerant world of snow and ice, Izzie has risen to the challenge. Not long ago she was innocently cooing in her crib, she is now in charge of ... well, she's in charge of laying in the snow and begging the clouds not to create any more snow. I've tried to explain to dear little Izzie that snow is created when water vapor is cooled so much that it turns into solid ice crystals and so it would be a lot easier to get rid of the snow if warm air invaded Fredericton. But she's decided eating it is more fun.