Snap, crackle and pop is not my cereal popping when I pour milk on it, nor is it the before-bedtime popcorn snapping to life while being shaken on the back burner of the stove.
What I am hearing in the middle of the night, and on into the dawning hours of the morning, could be better explained as a slam, bang or wham.
What I am hearing, folks, is the roof over my head that is snapping, time and again, from the record-breaking bitter cold that has settled in over our area. The weather reporter said that the temperature had dropped to a low of -26°C. Having been awakened several times during the night by the racket, I didn’t have reason to doubt anyone’s word.
The last reports that I heard on the amount of snowfall in this area are also record-breaking. Up to this week, I heard reports that we have already had over 130 inches in snowfall, and it is still coming down. I have little reason to disbelieve this, as there are eight-foot snowbanks alongside of our front walk where we head out to the barn. Thank God for grandchildren who are old enough to manhandle snowblowers.
In recent weeks I have not been able to get anywhere near my large bird feeder to refill it. It just ain’t possible, as I placed it right in the out-o-the-wind slot between buildings where the large tractor blower must throw its snow. You might wonder why my mentality, with its love of birds, would do such a thing. Think lazy, hazy, crazy days of August and you’ll have the answer, as that is when I put it there. And that was three summers ago and was not a problem until the snows of the past few months.
To compensate, and keep the wild birds happy, I fling a far greater amount than necessary on top of the snow out in my pheasant pens along the south side of my birdie bungalow. This they seem to appreciate, as it is more out of the wind there, and the greater number of them seem to not quarrel as much among themselves, as they have several spots that they can visit.
As I write, I can hear the weather report, which tells me that we are in for another blistering cold night tonight and a little more snow tomorrow. But the calendar tells me that we are well into March, and usually at this time someone mutters that spring is just around the corner.
Well, I have news for those who are muttering that: they are wrong, wrong and wrong again. I have looked around each and every possible corner, and in our neck of the woods, spring is just not there. Spring has not sprung, the grass has not rizz, and if you are wondering where the daisies is, they ain’t! When those crazy, hazy, lazy days of summer return, you are going to hear no complaints from the writer of this article!
And from my chuckle bucket this week comes this: The Law of Mechanical Repair: After your hands become coated with grease, your nose will itch and you’ll have to pee.
Take care, ’cause we care.
barrie@barriehopkins.ca
519-986-4105