Last weekend was a ‘teaser weekend.’ Every year we get a couple of these in March and April and we always seem to get caught in their deception. Week-ends like these are full of lies and misdirection making promises that they have no intention of fulfilling.
We watched puffy white clouds drift lazily overhead, headed for the Interior. They casually gave us the impression that they have finished dumping snow or sleet or continuous rain and that they are just passing by. If you listened closely, you could hear a disrespectful snicker as they floated up the valley. March clouds are not to be trusted.
The wind was nothing more than a gentle rustle. There was no danger of branches falling or power outages. The only sound was a quiet whisper encouraging us to start cleaning up the yard, picking up branches and deadfall, raking the lawns or dragging out the pressure washer.
The wind looked us straight in the eye and said “I’m done for the winter, go ahead and haul all that stuff away, sprinkle on some fertilizer and grass seed, you can get a good early start on the growing season this year.” Lies, all lies.
The sun reached down and massaged our neck and shoulders, relieving the knots and cramps caused by being hunched in hoodies and rain jackets for the last few months. “Doesn’t that feel good?” old Sol asks in a soft warm voice. “You can go ahead and put those heavy coats, socks and gloves away, you won’t need them anymore this year. Soon it will be daylight saving time and I will be so much more pleasant. By the way, why don’t you take those noisy snow tires off, you won’t need them again this year. Go ahead, organize some baseball practices and soccer tournaments, it’s time to get outside.”
What a cruel mistress that sun can be, casually yawning and stretching, promising to visit more often when it really has no intention of coming back for days or weeks. But just like Charlie Brown running to kick that football, we believe that this year will be different and we won’t be fooled again.
So we roll up our sleeves and clean and wax and wash our houses, scour our decks and cars and trucks. We fold up sweaters and blankets, we take off our winter tires and we start digging around in flower beds, fully believing that the forces of nature have been honest with us. They watch, punching each other in the shoulder, laughing hysterically knowing that we have fallen for it once again.
Unsuspectingly, we will awaken one mid-March Wednesday morning to a dump of wet sloppy snow hanging from the branches and covering the roads. We will hear cars slipping and spinning and we’ll search for the kids’ boots and mittens.
The wind will blow in later in the day, melting the snow, snapping branches and make a complete mess of your yard again. The sun will be nowhere to be seen and the clouds will sit like huge bullies over top of us and refuse to move, rendering daylight saving time useless.
I have lived in the Fraser Valley for many years and I have learned to make the best of the spring days we are given. If the sun shines on a March day, get out and enjoy it, but don’t believe a word it says. At least that’s what McGregor says,