Saturday, April 07, 2007

Peter Cottontail is dead


It is a typical January day. Steady heavy snowfall has dropped a white cover over the world outside my window, the temperature is heading for minus one Celsius, and the weather sadists predict that it will taper off sometime tomorrow morning, after which the wind will increase to 70K per hour. The temperature will still be a minus.

It is In between Saturday, the day between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. April 7th, in case you aren't catching my drift. The time of year I expect to see small purple and yellow flowers emerging from the earth. The season in which I send my winter coat to the dry cleaners and start trying to remember where I put my sandals. When the dead straw covering the ground turns a miraculous green.

No. Apparently not.

And even though I have lived in this provincial outpost of hell for twenty-one years, my poor rigid brain cannot seem to accept the idea that Spring, in the Canadian maritimes, is more of a concept than an event.

I take it personally.

It is on my list of questions for the Supreme Being. It is on my list of Critical Design Flaws. Not to mention the fact that I'd like to inquire as to whether the Supreme Being thinks this is funny or simply dislikes an entire block of the north Atlantic and everyone who sails on her.

This paranoia is, of course, ego-maniacal self-pity of the grandest magnitude, when you consider real natural disasters. I mean tsunamis. I mean earthquakes and Hurricane Katrina. And the unnatural natural disasters spawned by our love of comfort and fossil fuel. I tell myself that, but I continue to sulk.

I sulk and I read "In a Sunburned Country" for the second time. I long to be in Australia - a place where plants and rocks are a strange and beautiful blue-grey. Where it is late summer.
Or in Cuba or Brazil - wearing a red dress to set off my gorgeous sunburn, drinking tequila or rum and gazing at flowers. Hell. I would settle for Vancouver where it's just as grey but the precipitation is not solid and the temperature is...seasonally appropriate.

Here, Spring may not come at all. One day in late May or Early June, it will become summer. It will shock our cold whithered systems into stupidy. It will be humid. Or not. Sometimes summer is also a concept - at least until September, when it becomes glorious, hot and sunny - just at the time I'm thinking I should find my winter coat. July could be lovely...warm and sun-drenched or, then-again, foggy and rain-soaked every single day for the entire month.

Fortunately for me, I have a book and enough cheap red wine to blur my eyesight if that's the only escape. And I can cheer myself with the fact that I haven't been waiting all winter to ride a motorcycle. Now those guys are suffering.

Tickets to anywhere else gratefully accepted. But be patient. Because if the ticket is for outside Canada, thanks to the new US border-crossing regulations, our passport offices are 127,000 passport applications behind - and my passport has expired.

9 comments:

zhoen said...

I remember many a cool June in Detroit growing up. T'ain't personal.

Darkmind said...

We just got some rain down here and it brought a cold front from Canada. It got down to 40 degrees last night. BURR!!! That's farenheit by the way. For a split second I forgot you were in Canada again and when you said the winds were 70K, I thought you were saying 70,000 MPH. Yeah...but anyway, LJ, you seem to forget that while there are the stricter border laws, we also have an illegal alien problem. Just put on some snow shoes and hike across the border. As long as you don't say the words 'sorry' (soory), 'about' (aboot), or do the 'ay' thing at the end of your sentences, no one will notice you're not from around here. WELCOME TO AMERICA!!!

edvard moonke said...

ah lj, the uk weather can be so frustrating too, and I, like you, take it personally: icy arctic cold till around about now when it rains every day until it goes icy again... of course i'm exagerating but in my sulky battle with it in my mind, that's how it feels...

how about you get a ticket to spend a couple of weeks in the northeast of majorca (alcudia) in August, and we'll be able to meet up for some pina coladas and toast the sunshine?

LJ said...

Zhoen...I know, I know. I hate it when I hate weather. What a useless waste of time.
D - I'd KILL for 40F. And thanks for the language tip. Snowshoes (mutter, grumble, bitch)
Edvard...You are ON! Now, as soon as the passport office gets down to...say...105,000 applications behind...

zhoen said...

Actually, I remembed a summer trip up the east coast, Antigonish was where the car broke down. And I was so mad I had to wear my sweater and jacket, in the summer!

Mr. X said...

As Edvard points out, the weather here is rather unpredictable...but for once the Easter weekend is glorious sunshine.
Bloody miracle, really, it almost always gets crappy when you've got time off...

We've offered up a chocolate egg to the sun as a sacrifice in the hope for more warmth for you. Hope it works...

LJ said...

I love the picture of that...the egg in the sun sacrifice. Thank you. Let's hope it works!

herhimnbryn said...

Sending you sun.........

'I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of drought and flooding rains,
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel sea,
Her beauty and her terror -
The wide brown land for me.'
by Dorothea MacKellar

Minor Deity said...

I have been waiting all winter to ride the bike again.

It will be coming out this weekend at the latest. I just have to find the time to go and get her...