On Resilience

As I type, rain continues to fall, relentless dripping that soon will wash away the crust of snow left during the storm of the last two days. It is still cold outside. My walk (desperately needed) is now looking unlikely to happen. I will have to get over that small setback without undue crankiness to loved ones.

Yesterday folks were posting photos of ice-encased branches: gorgeous crystalline chill forms of wonder. Trees have fallen, and hydro crews are still working to restore power to our region. We lost power only briefly but were bereft without internet, phone and television service for hours. Everyone was home, squabbling for rights to the computer as it flickered in and out of consciousness. That's a revelation in itself, as worthy of contemplation as spring's fickle reversals: how dependent we have become on the steady drip of the electronic IV.  And not just for entertainment, but for everything: information, commerce, communication of all kinds, and of course, work. These are legitimate needs in the age of no-interesting-paper-mail. Still, the realization of electrodependency makes me want to retreat to an unwired room for regular bouts of disconnection, just to make sure I can still cope. 

These pansies were advertised as frost-resistant, and they've certainly passed the test. The photos were taken about a week ago after a night of below-freezing temperatures. The flowers sulked, claiming to be camera-shy, but sprang upright soon enough, tracking the sun. Today, after two days of being battered by freezing rain and wind, they look much the same. I'm not sure how modern horticulture has accomplished this feat--are these Frankenpansies or what? All I know is, they provide today's lesson in resilience.

Measuring Weather

According to the weather report, ten centimeters of snow will have accumulated before spring technically arrives tomorrow. The hardy, winter-loving residents of central Ontario don't care. We were not fooled by last week's teasing sunshine and mud--March is the muddiest month--nor downcast when the snow returned last night along with high winds and, for an hour or so, freezing rain pellets. I finally understand that odious weather-branding phrase: "wintry mix".

Mid-March is when I always want to pack the winter gear away. I did that once, only to unpack it again. We still need our boots and mitts and scarves and parkas. My husband shoveled the driveway this morning, but only the road end where plows had left the packiest, dirtiest, heaviest snow of the season. I said, "Why don't you leave it? It'll melt," to which he replied, "Come on, it's March." His father never stopped shoveling until April. That was a personal rule: unless it's April, get out there buddy.

My children were hoping for a snow day this morning, even though they've just returned from March break and have already enjoyed more freebie days off school than anyone can remember happening in a single year. Unfortunately for them, the buses rolled. 

Here's what the kids created on the last snow day.

Some will have seen this photo already, but I like it so much I've entered it in The Great Snowman Challenge. You, too, can "like" it on Ontario Travel's Facebook page if you feel inclined to active liking. Too bad I uploaded the photo sideways to the contest page . . . but still, it stands out among the others, I think. There are snowdogs, a snowbunny, and a snowman doing a headstand, but no other snowkayakers. (Notice the green river of lawn on which our intrepid boater floats? That's the path my husband forged with the snow blower; it leads to our compost bin. We live such romantic lives here at the homestead, what with perpetual snow removal and the daily schlepping of vegetable waste.)

Most of Canada is colder than most of the USA, most of the time. That's a geographic fact. Also, it's psychologically colder here, if only because of the metric system. (This post will not address the temperature of national personalities; let's just stick to weather, my friends.) When American relatives shiver through a brutal 20˚F afternoon, I can report that we're in minus territory: -7˚C! Negative numbers seem worse. Similarly, today's snowy centimeters sound like a bigger deal than their imperial equivalent of four inches.

Metric measurement confers bragging rights, but the reality is that Canadian kids run around all winter with their coats unzipped no matter what the thermometer reads. Today was relatively balmy, at -2˚C (30 whole degrees F), and I saw a guy wearing shorts and Crocs, shoveling his walk. In yoga class, the instructor gestured at the large studio window and offered the fanciful notion that the heat we generated (it was power yoga, an oxymoron if ever there was one) might be enough to melt the snow. Everyone held the ironic smile pose while preparing to move into a salute to the sun. Outside the window, snowflakes swirled, and a daycare worker pushed a jumbo stroller across the white landscape, giving her babies a turn in the fresh air. I practiced a balancing pose (I'm a tree, I'm a tree) and marveled at the sight. 

How's spring treating you?