We love the sun, oh how we love the presence of the sun. Living here it just is not possible to imagine how people who are in the Nordic countries, Norway, Sweden, Iceland and others manage their days for months on end without the friendly face of the sun brightening and warming their environment and their outlook on winter.

Canada is a northern country, a winter country, and we are beyond fortunate to also have the natural privilege of ample winter sun. Granted, there are many days that are overcast, the sun hidden behind clouds prepared frequently to release their burden of frozen water either as freezing rain, or far more often, an abundance of snow. Abundance, because it is true that we receive quite a bit of snow.

Not necessarily in the southernmost parts of the country, but certainly to the east and the west and the north. The nation's capital receives the seventh-most snow and experiences the seventh-most icy winter conditions of any country of the world, just behind Estonia, Iceland, Finland, Russia, Kazakhstan, and the world's coldest and iciest, Mongolia.

But we get sun, lots of it, and we love it. It lifts our mood, it brightens our day and beautifies the landscape, it warms us and helps to penetrate the layers of snow that accumulate over the winter season, until spring arrives.

Yesterday was one of those bright, sunny days. We could feel the sun caressing us as we walked up the street to our nearby forest. We could see the sun streaming down through the canopy onto the snowpack. We could see, looking up and ahead in the distance how the sun crowns the tops of trees in a blaze of brightness.

I am personally mesmerized by the vision of the setting sun in the winter, with its streaks of light illuminating the landscape, but most particularly, seeing that ball of luminous fire through the masts of the forest trees. It is an exciting spectacle, with a fierce beauty beyond compare.

Humanity has become skilled over the ages in pledging to learn from its errors, and what could be more worthy of the intention never to repeat horrendous lapses of judgement than waging horribly destructive conflicts, taking a dreadful toll in lives lost, in populations distraught and homeless, the ruination of nations, the realization that we have the intelligence to prevent such catastrophes but somehow lack the will to energize ourselves against war.

Reminders are with us constantly since wars never fade into distant memory; they are recalled and mourned and deplored, and yet nothing seems to stop the ongoing events leading to regional wars, wars reflecting territorial ambition, ideological conflicts and the bid to achieve power and influence by withholding both from neighbours, depleting resources, both in human lives destroyed and advances in civilizational future.

Today, just as every other anniversary of the the world madness when twice Germany sought to gain its ambition to rule the world, and the Armistice agreement was signed between Germany and the Allied powers who fought to stop fascism's depraved and monstrous plans to launch a new world order to be subservient to it alone, the world stopped to take notice that yet another anniversary was being recognized, even while conflict rages in Africa, the Middle East, and threatens Eastern Europe and people in tormented countries led by both left- and right-wing aggressors spurred by tribal, sectarian, racist and ideological hatreds launch massive protests against their exploiters.

For countries at peace internally the sincere effort to recall the sacrifices of those who left their lives behind in foreign countries while they fought to free others from the trap of human rights abuses reaching out to threaten their own nations, evokes sadness and pride at one and the same time. Sadness that the price of liberty is costly to those who serve in the military whose country sends them abroad as a duty to humanity. Pride that many answer that call with the knowledge they may not survive the effort.

There are the civilians who give their support to the sacrifices of those who serve, and the current members of the armed forces who pay their respects to their predecessors who gave the peace of their lives to the chaos of war to disrupt the deadly aspirations of warmongers. The ritual of remembrance, the organized rites of commemoration are nothing if not sombre and subdued. All of such remembrance ceremonies that I can recall have occurred on darkly overcast, windy and miserable days, as though nature has sent her own emissaries to bear witness to the folly of humankind, and today was no different.

Under freezing, threatening skies awaiting a winter snowstorm on this day there were regimental march-pasts, dignitaries and authorities in evidence at the National Cenotaph in Ottawa. There were military bands, there was the cannon, the CAF fly-past, and there was the children's choir singing traditional songs of mourning. And there was the tomb of the Unknown Soldier, the memorial wreath-laying ceremonies, and the crowds of thousands of ordinary people there to give their emotional support and thanks for the ultimate sacrifice.