Ode to February

February is a gritty time in the foothills of Alberta, in Calgary where I live.

 Where I used to live, on Vancouver Island, spring is springing on mother nature’s own mysterious time clock and the first brave snow drops and crocus are blooming, daffodils are showing their green, and the earliest flowering trees are blooming their heads off.  Spring shines on Canada’s southern west coast. It is a grand showing off time.

But not here.  Here February is treacherous ice on the sidewalks and alleys as the snow melts under the onslaught of the mild Chinook temperatures and intense winds out of the west which polish  ice to a shiny  glare terrifying to walk on.  Here February is gritty streets full of the rock and sand thrown down by the sanding trucks and laying in wait to chuck at unsuspecting windshields, thrown up by the tires of the truck or car in front .  Here February is bare branches , sleeping plants,  and untidy gardens  left bare by the melting snow.  Here is sidewalks salted and graveled, battling the ice which forms overnight and melts in the daytime.    Two forlorn , wizened up apples still hang on the apple tree.  Even the birds don’t seem to want them.  They are probably fermented. 

Here is snow that has the sparkling consistency and sound of Styrofoam. It squeaks underfoot as we slip and slide our way along.  Here is a very substantial glacier in the back garden.  It won’t melt for a while yet I think.  I  love snow, but I don’t love this snow.

  

February is a short month, a small month, an in between month, sort of like being in the middle of the tunnel that is winter and unable to see light from either end.   February, with its pretentious little” r”, is a quiet month really.  It is a waiting month.  Gardeners and farmers wait for spring to finally come so they can get onto their plot of land however big it may be.   Skateboarders wait for clean sidewalks and roads to race on.  Runners and bikers are waiting too, unless they are all weather runners and bikers, in which case, they don all- weather gear and get out there no matter what the day brings, intrepid souls that they are. Dog walkers, like me, can't wait.  We go, in spite of the mean streets, and pray we don't end up flat on our backs staring into the surprised eyes of our four footed friend.  It hasn't happened yet.  My fingers stay crossed.

We are half way through February now and racing toward the finish line.  In little more than a month, the official start of spring comes with the equinox, except not in Alberta. Spring won’t be here for another month after that at least, and maybe more depending on the weather forcasters. We swarm into our gardens in May here.

Last night the TV meteorolegist made a delightful slip of the tongue as she was summerizing her forcast about the next snow on its way.  She said “look for snow to fart stall around midnight”. And then the dear girl broke apart and put her head on the anchor desk.  It was one of those funny little live moments that are all too rare these days.   We need more of those and we need some of that lovely white snow to fart stalling and cover up the grey, dirty left over’s and make it pretty again around here.