Canadian bloggers have it easy. While writers around the world are brainstorming to produce engaging content, we can just check the weather and report on it. It’s a crowd-pleasing topic—non-Canadians always want to know how cold it is, how long winter will last and how crazy severe conditions are, and Canadians chip in with their own local weather report.
Also, maybe you’re completely swamped and brain dead because you’ve been working 7/7 for the past month and maybe you have no confidence left in your creative abilities because you’ve just received yet another rejection to your query letter.
Anyway… eh guys, did I tell you about the weather…?
Remember when we had freezing rain—and when we were freezing, period—five days ago? Remember when it snowed eight days ago?
Well, someone finally turned the heat on this weekend. It was lovely, warm, hot, amazing and other adjectives used and reused by 100% of Ottawa residents. Seriously, it was hot—in Canadian, it means it was just above 20⁰C, pretty amazing indeed for May.
And this is what happens when it suddenly gets hotter in Ottawa…
People walk around half-naked as if we were in Brazil during Carnival—except Mark who, inexplicably, came back from my in-laws wearing a long-sleeve PJ top and then complained he was too hot.
The Byward Market downtown Ottawa is more packed than on Canada Day. Good luck finding a parking spot, a table, and personal space—for once, it’s acceptable to hang out outside with—gasp!—other human beings.
Last fall’s leaves are racked up in piles, lawns are mowed, backyards are cleaned up and dog poop is picked up. Yes, dog poop. This is a very Canadian problem—there’s always dog poop buried under snow piles and it looks gross after it melts.
Supermarkets are exploiting a new niche—bug season and BBQ season.
Cross-country-move season is starting. I keep on seeing exotic licence plates from Florida (snowbirds coming back) or Nunavut (? Finally realizing it’s way too cold up there and next winter will be spent “south”??).
Kids play street hockey on driveways or in quiet residential neighbourhoods and the scene looks deliciously Canadian and very picturesque—sorry, Instagram-worthy—especially if one of the parents is supervising drinking a Tim Hortons coffee or handing out Timbits.
It’s finally time to wash the dirty backpacks stored in the garage. Okay, this is probably just us.
I’m not wearing sandals yet but I’m considering it. Feng and Mark always have theirs out.
There’s an orderly queue—British heritage here—at Dairy Queen. Yes, even the one in the middle of nowhere, suburbia.
People are in such a good mood that crossing a street take five minutes—“after you!” “No, please, go ahead!” “Oh, silly you… I insist!”
No hat! No gloves! No scarf! No coat!
Rain and cooler temperatures are on the way. Still, we had two days of spring and they were glorious.