spring is here, somewhere

So, it is spring time. At least that's what the calendar suggests. Albertans know better than to count on it, though. Gardeners and farmers, in particular, know better than to assume that the equinox means spring has sprung and the grass will surely soon be growing. I suppose, if you give "soon" a more objective understanding, you could say that, indeed, "soon" the grass would be green and growing again. ... if by soon, you mean sooner than back in January. ha! We still have a month and a half more-or-less. Luckily farmers have developed planting regimes to embrace the winter here, and winter wheat, a fall/winter-planted grain has the benefit of growing immediately after the soil thaws instead of waiting for the soil to be first plough-able. Most gardeners don't get to be so lucky. We wait until the thaw is upon us, the soil is workable once again, and only THEN do we start to turn the earth and throw down seeds for the summer of plenty. It really is a feast and famine cycle up here. ... as far as nature's bounty is concerned. Though you can cheat a little if you use cold frames and start planting indoors in February or March.

Anyway, not the point of this. It is officially spring. And, as is wont to happen up here at 53 degrees, Latitude, it snowed. There's nothing quite like knowing Nature has a sense of humour. First weekend of spring? Of course you need snow! Fresh, moist, dense snow, not unlike walking on cookie dough, just in time for Monday morning. The flakes started falling fast and thick around 1am, and by morning commute, a good inch and a half had hit the ground in my neighbourhood, more in other areas. Everything was amok in, well, muck, and slush, underlain with surprisingly slick ice. With the sun rising earlier (hooray daylight savings time and equinox!!), it made for an absolutely breathtaking morning commute. ... even if it was snow-saturated!

Today the thaw has started anew, and the fields are re-browning, and the roads are accumulating mud. These, of course, are sure signs that spring truly is on its way. But I won't count on spring until the grass starts to turn green and the aspen have let forth their sap (which I am starting to smell on the wind in small quantities). The birds are returning, I hope this snow wasn't too much of a shock. The Canada geese are slowly re-conglomerating, and the nuthatches have started up their mating calls from my neighbour's tree.

In order of my day, yesterday:

The shrubs at a local park. Snow-covered branches getting lit up by the rising sun.


Snow-coated trees at the bus terminal.


Strong winds coated signs to the point of illegibility in some cases.


My walk home gave me views of neat rows of chaff in the fields.


Snow encrusted wind breaks.


Charmingly pastoral scenes.



A loading-up of grain.


and a barn being divested of its possessions.


and having things pulled out of the roof?

no. 8: the slow drag to new year's

I am procrastinating doing everything right now. It's a frosty -16C outside right now, I don't feel like moving much, and those dishes in the sink just don't look that desperate to be washed. So, I'm in my newly cleared out room (read: all the junk got moved to the basement, I haven't become a neat and tidy person), staring out my non-frosted-up window 1 out of 2 isn't bad, right? at the snow coated world.

We have had so much snow since Christmas. It is at once both delightful and annoying. Where was this precipitation when we really needed it earlier this fall? Why does it seem like every time I leave the house, I have to clear off the sidewalk/my car? Why am I the only one shoveling all this snow? And where on Earth did that green John Deere bulldozer come from that just drove down my street?

anyway, short post, I just felt like posting... a picture and a meme...



1. Grab the book nearest to you, page 18, line four?
" - Mon enfant, ce n'est pas parceque tu as un petit chandail neuf des Maple Leafs de Toronto, au contraire des autres, que tu vas nous faire la loi."

okay, really, it's just " - Mon enfant, ce n'est pas parceque tu " but I can't just leave it at that, it's a kid's book after all.

From Le Chandail de Hockey, Texte: Roch Carrier, Illustrations: Sheldon Cohen
The Hockey Sweater, truly, a Canadian classic, and a Christmas gift from last year.

2. Stretch your left arm out as far as you can what do you touch?
a cd on my bookshelf: The New Orleans Social Club - Sing Me Back Home

3. What is the last thing you watched on TV?
That is a very good question. That I watched, I'd have to say It's a Wonderful Life.

4. Without looking, guess what time it is
noon.

5. Now look at the clock. What is the actual time?
11:57 am. I guess I was close.

6. With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?
The rumble of our furnace in the basement. otherwise it's pretty silent. The snow does a great job of muffling noise.

7. When was the last time you stepped outside? What were you doing?
Probably a half-hour ago. I had to open the door for the mail man. Who knew they worked on Saturdays?

8. Before you started this survey, what did you look at?
my flickr page.

9. What are you wearing?
light brown corduroy pants, wool socks, an acrylic v-neck sweater in a lovely mossy green and a tee from the Calgary Folk Festival.

10. Did you dream last night?
I don't know.

11. When did you last laugh?
this morning as I talked on the phone with my mother.

12. What is on the walls of the room you are in?
green paint, two cork boards, and some pencil lines where I intend to hang other pictures.

13. Last person you talked to before you went to sleep?
my roommate

14. What do you think of this quiz?
meh

15. What is the last film you saw?
I went through a bit of a movie binge prior to Christmas - how else does one get knitting done? I think the most recent was Love Actually. lovely.

16. If you became a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy?
Land, tons and tons of land, or well, more appropriately, hectares. Forest land, grassland, rolling hills, maybe some waterfront. Land that no oil and gas company will be allowed to touch. Land on which I could live, grow a garden and hunt/gather from the forest to survive if we do indeed hit peak oil and/or massive global climate change catastrophy and lose our current way of life.

17. Tell me something about you that I don't know?
you... whomever you are, don't know much about me, that's for sure. I really like to support local and/or Canadian producers above all else. I guess that makes me a bit of a protectionist.

18. If you could change one thing about the world, what would you do?
easy, cheap and totally sound renewable energy for everything... so that we wouldn't have all the problems we currently have.

19. Do you like to dance?
sometimes. Though having a partner would make it a lot more fun. Granted, I do like line dances.

20. George Bush:
Has the potential to do great harm to the entire world.

21. Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her?
Helen. Or the name that seems to be at the forefront of my mind right now: Ginger (could one name a non-red-headed child that?) or maybe Rowan.

22. Imagine your first child is a boy, what do you call him?
Evan. I like names that end in 'n.' And truly, this makes me sound far more decisive than I ever possibly could be. I would hem and haw over a couple dozen names for both boys and girls, no doubt, unable to truly pick one until I met the little'un good and proper. Names that float around include Owen, Ethan, Nathan, Tristan, Steven (note the trend!), and the two familial names I've always thought would be great: Donald and William.

23. Would you ever consider living abroad?
yes, yes yes yes yes! There's a part of me that's still dreaming of working for the UN... somewhere deep inside. And I do, somewhat secretly still want to apply for the iisd internships.

24. What do you want God to say to you when you reach the pearly gates?
"Are you sure?" Um, no. That's what I anticipate God will say when I reach the pearly gates. And I'll probably respond with "I don't know." And then I'll be told to wait outside until I've made up my mind.

The other option I can think of right now is "What the hell were you thinking?" but that seems, um... really, uh, counter-intuitive.



And, now that that's done, I guess I should figure out why my battery charger isn't working.

no. 1: beginnings

I suppose it's appropriate enough, here I am, starting a blog at the beginning of November, shortly after the pagan new year festival (Samhain). A time of renewal and beginnings, as apt as any, I guess. And one I sorely need. October was as dark and dreary a month as possible. Now, in truth, I shouldn't complain. The weather was glorious for a Canadian autumn. Not a wisp of snow, and barely a day that hovered near freezing, let alone below. Yet, the snowless, dry brown ground left me wishing for the depths of winter, the stark whiteness and brightness of glorious snow banks. Even hoar frost would have made me delighted, but nothing. Nothing until now. The first Sunday of November, and we have snow. Impermanent as it is, the beautiful virgin whiteness of it is breathtaking.




And it provides a source of renewal for me. Even without the much-needed Daylight Savings Time we've finally gained, snow gives me a boost. The glow, the freshness, everything about it (yes, even the shovelling) invigorates and encourages me. I only wish there was more. I'm sure, as I continue with this blog, there will be many posts about how I'm trying to move forward, how I'm trying to build on my life and my capabilities, and how I'm interacting with my environment. The environment is rather at the forefront for me, in my life. I study trees, and I have studied the environment for a decent collection of years now. The snow, to me, is a reprieve... for everything. The soil has not frozen here, and thankfully the sun will melt what little snow we've gained, and the moisture will visit the sorely starving tree roots deep down in the soil. Desperately starving in this autumn drought that's been delightfully easy for us humans, and incredibly hard on the trees.

At any rate, I must get going, I will likely be a weekly poster (depending on the demands of the rest of my life), on everything from knitting and kitchen experiments to environmental policy and my attempts at greening-up my life.