The year that spring came on time
I’m not positive, but that bird that was “hippity-hoppity” on the street yesterday morning might have been a robin. Looking lost, given the snow still covering the local lawns, but a welcome harbinger of seasonal change. But there’s snow, you say? I can only take solace in knowing that my neighbours haven’t had to shovel the front yards, this time around. By the end of the weekend, the only sign of winter will be my snow tires.
Things are early this year. Down on the Island, one golf course has announced tee times for the weekend. Out in the Gulf, ice pack coverage is down below 7 per cent; the lowest in the half-century of reports that are on file with Environment Canada. Here in the local river, there is no ice left (in fact, the lower streets in the city were under water this morning, with a predicted high tide. No flooding in the Beauce. No flooding on the Montmorency. Not your usual springtime.
I’ve got a curious photo to share; the copyright belongs to an Island photographer, but the content is from a public place, so I call fair use (and praise). First the photo, then the back story:
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This is the vestige of a water tower, used to keep steam locomotives doing their thing. The last steamer was in service shortly after the end of WW2, so you can do your own math. I’ve been looking around for a photo of the tower and tank, but all I could find was an aerial photo that is open to interpretation. Now, think about the team of men (no sexist excuses; in those days, the workteams were all dressed in overalls) who put that pipe into the stream, assuring a water supply that was completely artesian. I wonder if they imagined a world where steam no longer ruled, where the tracks would disappear to leave a hiking trail, where passersby would be left to question the why of the water jet. Somehow, I don’t think they did.
