Life in Cowtown

I haven’t blogged at all this week because I’ve been fighting and losing a battle with a nasty cold all week. And by all week I mean ALL WEEK. It started with a little scratchy throat last Wednesday, was a full-blown cold by the next morning and has migrated from my head to my chest throughout the week. And it’s been nasty. I’ve had to throw all the cold pills at my disposal, a cough syrup with codeine to quench the rib-cracking cough, pots of tea with lemon and three boxes of Kleenex at it.

And the weather has been reflecting my mood. With overcast skies, a drizzly rain here and there and a FULL BLOWN snow warning with 10-20 centimeters expected tonight, spring has been waging its own war with the remnants of winter. And my daffodils just opened, and my tulips just came up, and my peas have just poked their first wee leaves out of the ground. I hope they’re as frost resistant as they say.

So that’s the scoop on the prairie – Calgary weather still sucks.

In other news, I’m really sad about the disastrous Gulf of Mexico oil spill since I work in conventional oil and gas. (No oil sands and no offshore here). The confluence of events has resulted in a spill that seems poised to be the greatest environmental disaster in history. Since the Exxon-Valdez spill is still affecting the northern coast and has not gone anywhere despite the years of clean up efforts, it does not bode well for the Gulfs future.

What I’m curious about is why there isn’t a huge international relief effort being organized as we speak to attempt to clean up the insane mess that’s already there? As far as I know every country in the world has offered assistance, and I see the governor of Louisiana on TV proposing clean up measures that are going unanswered. Small fishermen that are placing their own boats in harm’s way are being turned away by the Coast Guard pretty much at gunpoint? What the hell? As far as I can tell while BP sorts out whatever solution to stop the leak every single willing person should be swarming the Gulf to try and minimize the damage.

So guys I’ll be back soon with something of interest, but until then I’ll be buried with my Kleenex in the nearest snow bank.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I’m a summer person through and through. I love long days that don’t seem to end, I love seeking shade from the hot sun in the sky, I love how easy it is to get dressed in the mornings what with the not looking for stray mittens, hats, scarves and debating whether a face mask is going too far or not. I love slipping into sandals and not worrying about socks, boots, and cracking your head open on residential roads that never see a plow. I love summer food – the bounty, the abundance, the freshness, the perfect ripeness of a sun warmed strawberry or a tomato.

But I live in a northern land, three thousand feet above sea level, at the foothills of majestic mountains and surrounded by wide prairies. Winter is a fact of life here, and it’s often harsh. Temperatures plunge deeply and without warning, snowfalls bury the city making roads impassable, and winter often lasts beyond all rhyme and reason. This is not a winter from an LL Bean catalogue where families frolic in the sunny meadow building a snowman and sipping hot chocolate. You just know the weather in those photos is hovering just below zero, while you contemplate the arctic parka from Canada Goose while there’s a blizzard outside.  And while always welcome in the winter, Chinooks unleash their own mayhem raising temperatures by thirty degrees in hours turning roads into deep slush piles and melting everything in sight.  In fact, I’ve recently cultivated an appreciation for skiing, to my own surprise, just so that there’s something else to do besides hibernate by the fireplace.

So around here we need the fall, bittersweet that it is, to ease the transition between the summer fun and the bitter short days of winter. We need to feel the shock of that first night below zero and to begin acclimatizing so that in January we can wear a t-shirt on a sunny + 10 day with impunity.  We need to watch the leaves change colors, and bunnies replace their brown summer coats with snow white down. We need to start making stews, chilies and roasts because the oven is just another convenient way to warm the house. It’s like a fireplace only tastier.

Because all too soon we’ll be surprised to see this on our doorstep (only twenty days after our summer high of 32 C), which is nature’s way to dispense with slow acclimatization and just employ some shock therapy on our hides. Just to keep us from getting complacent and all.

 Photos  by my talented friend Warren Sable who actually knows how to use his camera.

It’s hard to describe just how much tomatoes love their self-watering containers, but these photos speak for themselves:

They went from this:

To this:

To the great outdoors:

Where they grew:

And became monsters: (notice no more window, they’re easily six feet tall)

And finally, finally weeks after they were expected they produced actual REAL tomatoes:

This has been a very trying year for many gardeners and farmers. From late blight in many areas to a very late start to the season up north, from late thaws to a cold and windy and rainy summer, it seems like everything was stacked against poor crops this year. Probably this is, because I started a garden. But I’ve taken a look at many a friends’ garden patch to see how their ‘maters are doing, and after doing that I’m especially impressed by mine.

Most tomatoes around here hover around two feet tall, with a few tomatoes on each plant. This is owing to poor clayey soil, insufficient water, chilly nights and a short season, but my plants have persevered and are easily the tallest I’ve seen outside the greenhouse.  They started producing quite late, due to a cold summer, but if there’s any hope of a warm September, I may even see a few of them ripen. Here’s hoping!