Don’t fret: Spring is just around the corner
Note: “Winter delivers its first blow.” Memo to Editor: Don’t despair. This isn’t Hairy Hill, Alberta. It isn’t snowbound Gander, Newfoundland, which averages 4.43 metres of snow. It’s not slushy Toronto or even Blizzard Lakes, B. C.
Winter’s already on the way out. Jack Frost might be up for a few more flurries in these late rounds, but the KO will be ours to savour. And soon.
Believe it or not, ( this may be hard for readers shivering in Mayo, Yukon, where the temperature once fell to a stupefying minus 62.2 degrees) in a scant six weeks, the wildflowers will start blooming on the South Coast.
In fact, primroses already splash the snow that lingers in the garden outside my kitchen door with red, yellow and blue flowers.
It’s no accident that flats of primula acaulis now have arrived at supermarkets and local nurseries.
Their arrival in the shops is about as reliable a signal that spring is imminent as the sharp green spears of snowdrops that thrust themselves through frosty soil toward daylight.
The days, indeed, already lengthen and have been since before Christmas. True, it’s only a few seconds a day right after winter solstice but the pace accelerates steadily.
Before we know it, we’ll be complaining about being robbed of an hour’s sleep in the morning because daylight time is back.
Meanwhile, take a walk, even in the snow. Console yourself. Signs of spring are everywhere.
The hardy red currant, the native shrub that blooms in early March, is already in strong bud. Red alder, hazelnut and Indian plum are setting buds as well. You can find pussy willows.
And gleaming flocks of over- wintering trumpeter swans can be seen in the Fraser River estuary and at favoured spots on Vancouver Island.
The swans are here, of course, because it’s such a balmy spot and offers an opportunity to bolster energy reserves for the spring migration back to nesting grounds in the Peace River district and the north central Yukon.
In a couple of weeks, the luminous yellow of swamp lantern will bloom in boggy areas. Toward the end of February the soundscape will erupt with the calling of Pacific tree frogs and the darting of tree swallows, first of the migratory birds to arrive — just as the wintering flocks of water fowl and raptors take their spring leave.
Far to the south, a new generation of grey whales is being born in the lagoons and sheltered waters of Mexico. In a few weeks they’ll head north to the B. C. coast again, the first arriving in early March.
Soon the sea birds will disperse to their summer rookeries and foraging grounds, the sea lions will move inshore and the local gulls will gang up for their annual feast on spawning herring.
In the meantime, enjoy those stunning vistas of the snowy mountains, or if you’re out at night and there’s no cloud cover, the brilliant winter constellations — Orion, Taurus, Perseus — and on the horizon, Sirius, brightest star in the sky.
Jack Frost may still have a gasp or two. It may snow again. There may be another cold snap.
Fear not. You live in Lotus Land. Spring has already sprung.