See the air and feel the warmth of the water
Smack in the middle of Canada’s most ephemeral season, one can only wait for the arrival of warm weather. Every year, we go through the same song and dance; we salute the new foliage and lawncover, while our breathe provides a visible flag while waiting for that early morning bus. As recently as yesterday, in a neighbouring province, my sister recorded snowfall (she called it hail, I call it nasty weather). If I was prone to planting tomatoes, I’d be convinced that the frost was meant to vex me alone.
But it doesn’t matter. This is far better than hurricane watching, or tornado watching, or earthquake… OK, so earthquakes aren’t meteorological. In the back yard, the grass has grown enough to hide those groundwires we laid last autumn. The hosta that our neighbour offered in a bid to beautify our domain now stands tall, and if the weather ever warms up, it might even bloom. The pollen count is rising, daily, and all around me people are clutching crumpled tissues or (in the newest fad to keep the rest of us healthy) coughing and sneezing into their elbows and shoulders.
Son #2 has just completed a trial run (flight?) of carrying his kayak on the roof of his paddling buddy’s car. I didn’t see the actual mount, but it involves some sort of jury rig with lots of ropes and knots; a typical lashup. This is the true sign of committment. After all, the calendar shows a first run of the season sometime later this week. Remember, the water isn’t as warm as the air (ever). Sailor beware.
