Always sure to be more Springs … but what kind?
In one of my favourite book series, Anne of Green Gables, author L. M. Montgomery writes, “That is one good thing about this world … there are always sure to be more springs.” Sitting on my deck with warm sunny weather, no snow, birds chirping, and the poplars budding, I would have to agree! Spring is a wondrous time, and how incredible is it that we get one every year!
But my deck is in north-central British Columbia, one of the few places in Canada where climate change is predicted to be fairly mild. And notably, there hasn't been snow since early February, something that intrigued my local refillery owner, who said this weather was odd. The temperatures are unusually warm for March, something I learned from the concerned backcountry skiers in the area. So this beautiful spring day that makes me eager for future springs, has it come too early? Does the dry ground today warn about increased forest fires tomorrow? Is this peaceful spring day a calm before a storm? I have heard the words unusual, odd, unprecedented, and worrisome used to describe weather since I was young. Have I forgotten that hearing these words regularly is, in fact, unusual?
A perfect spring day has appeared, but what of the spring season?
As I sit on my deck on this perfect spring day, locally crafted beer in hand and camera at the ready in case that Hairy woodpecker comes back, I click onto an article about Crawford Lake. As I read her story and learn her significance to the new Anthropocene era, I feel hope and excitement for the future of our world. I mean, how could you not on a perfect spring day! As I sip my beer in the warm sun, my parents in central Ontario are starting the generator because unprecedented ice storms have knocked out all power in the area. This blackout will last 3 days. They cook dinner on a propane camp stove and watch as a tree my brother planted in first grade collapses and shatters under the weight of ice-covered branches. As I snap pictures of soft, cottony poplar buds, my mother-in-law anxiously listens to branches snap off a large white pine in her front yard, will they hit the powerline? As I smile at the warm breeze, a friend desperately tries to bail out her flooded basement. A perfect spring day.
As I enjoy a perfect spring day, my loved ones experience a climate emergency. I hope for more days ‘just like this one’, while my loved ones hope they never have to see this day again. There is sure to be more springs, but what kind?