Queenie couldn’t sleep last night, what with the excitement of a new cabinet that includes a Minister for Natural Resources that has his own ATV collection to go with his crocodile skin cuban-heeled boots and all. She lay awake listening to PsychoBruce cracking beer cans (seven on the windowsill this morning) and thinking of all kinds of erudite and witty things to blog about in the morning. Of course, she should have switched the light on and made a note of them in her little moleskin, because she’s damned if she can remember any of them at the moment.
They’ll come back to her.
It snowed last night. That’s the thing about snow. It’s totally silent. You haven’t a clue that your world has changed until you open the curtains the next day and the world is softly, moistly blanketed in white again.
I do hope that there won’t be much more of it. It’s not that I mind snow – I don’t. It falls; it gets shovelled to one side; it melts. It’s the downward spiral in the temperature, followed by the slow upward haul to bearable, as well as a day lost to leaden skies with no sunshine to break the wind chill that I mind.
I am bored with the Atlantic Canadian winter. Despite the fact that it is in the ha’penny place when compared to Central Europe, or Minnesota, or even Saskatchewan. I have been asking around about potential dates upon which to expect daffodils, etc, the accoutrements of spring.
Typically, my Atlantic Canadian acquaintances haven’t a clue. So they think of the worst possible spring they ever had (whether real or imagined) and then assure me that that is the norm. Those of you who follow this blog will remember that the same crap went on about the winter (and they were all wrong).
I was starting to get upset about it, but then I realised it says more about them than it does me, so I have decided to be magnanimous.
Poor Maritimers – they get the award for least glamorous manifestation of just about everything – weather (none or crappy), work (none or crappy), politics (see Cabinet photo above), scenery (mostly flat), high society (none), bear attacks (none), you name it. So they make up for it by LYING THROUGH THEIR TEETH ABOUT HOW BAD THE WEATHER IS.
Apparently, the daffodils won’t appear till mid-May.
If that is the case, then they must have all died off the day before I arrived last year, as daffodils generally last about six weeks and I arrived at the end of June.
Sigh.
In my final moan about Nova Scotian winters, I like my weather to have a soundtrack. There was a gale here last weekend. I lay in bed and the wind howled around the house and it rained a bit. I was ecstatic. It was like a normal windy Friday night at home. But that’s only been the second time I’ve experienced it here in Atlantic Canada.
Maybe I should move to Nunavet.
Apparently, you can make $60,000 a year doing data entry in Nunavet.
Francis, my co-ordinator in the library TESL to immigrants programme, says I have the February bleughs.
Sounds about right.
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