How many times can I write about the weather? Before anyone says (and you know who you are), “I don’t know; can you?” why yes, yes I can. The questions is a matter of will.

If I did devote further column inches to the weather, I could mention that there’s a whole lot more snow piled up outside, on every corner, curb and in front of the mailbox. Jack Williams, Ottawa municipal director, pointed out during Monday’s council meeting that more snowfall will put this winter’s accumulation of white stuff above the blizzard of 1978. He inspired a doodle on my reporter’s pad, a sketch of two motorists meeting at a four-way stop, their windows rolled down with telescoping periscopes raised high above the snow so they could see oncoming traffic above the plowed foothills.

I would say that I really like cold-weather clothes. Multiple feet of snow gave me an excuse to buy more boots and sweaters. Have to admit, though, that I’d rather not wear every sweater at the same time. I understand now why people used to stitch themselves into their long johns at the start of winter. Cuts down on dressing time, what with all the layers required to fight wind chills..

Donkey is wearing a new blue coat, and he likes it. If the temperature keeps dropping into single digits for days on end, we’ll be in the market for goat-sized parkas as well.

Thank-yous to the neighbors would surely be in the outline, shout-outs of heartfelt gratitude for braving the elements to keep our long driveway clear. And the plow; I’d have to admit that I’ve held the glass to the outer wall, hoping to hear the approach of a stone-hauling, brine-dripping truck.

Then there are the January and February mornings. Clear, indigo skies that fade into cornflower blue, or rose if more snow is on the way. White winter sunshine warms hoary frost from tree branches and trunk, just enough to send the crystals in a shimmering curtain over my view.

I could write a whole lot more about the weather, and I probably will. Just give me a second to pull off these mittens.