The snow is finally starting to melt. I can see the deck and roof outside again. The familiar Vancouver puddle is returning, and not a minute too soon.
I’m not a winter person, as you’ve probably figured. The fact that California and Arizona are on the wrong side of the border is nothing short of a travesty of international justice. I’m still waiting for our government to take action at The Hague.
Sure, winter snow is great for the skiers and boarders, but I’m not one of them. Besides, there’s still plenty of snow on the mountains over on the north shore. At least, I assume there is behind that low cloud cover obscuring the view of the top half of the mountains.
The season has its benefits, of course. I love hockey enough to endure the kind of abuse I took from some idiot on the Skytrain yesterday for wearing my Canucks toque after they lost again, continuing their current bad stretch. But, if I’d wanted a ‘Canadian’ winter I’d have moved to the prairies. Prairie people know what I’m talking about because half of them are here. Every other person you meet in Vancouver is a climate refugee from Alberta, Saskatchewan, or, occasionally, Manitoba.
It’s only the end of January, and we’ve already had more snow on the ground down here near sea level than we usually get in an entire winter. Several days of snow cover and freezing temperatures is just not natural here. I know we have it easy compared to everywhere else in the country – except Victoria, maybe - but I still expect the worst precipitation induced obstacle I encounter to be a puddle. Damn you, El Nino! Or is it Nina?
Normally, I say I could do without the rain and puddles but, after the cold spell of the past week or so, they now seem pretty palatable.