Barbecue smells are travelling on April breezes. People are tying up their shoes to go walking on dry, clear streets. The white spots streaking past the streetlamps aren’t snow, they’re moths. Already it stays light until nine p.m.; we’re well on the way to the days when dusk hangs in the air until sunrise. Soon the geese will melt right through the ice!
Winter may seem cold and dark here in the Peace Country. It’s easy to forget the beauty of the stillness of the snow when you are cold and have to shovel out the car. Yet every evening the darkness comes later, noticeably later. It is measurable anticipation of the time when you can drive nearly all night in the sun and lie in the deck chair in a sleeveless shirt. At no time is that anticipation more recognizable than it is in April.
If we didn’t need the parkas for four or five months, would the fresh air on our shoulders feel as good? If it were easy to walk wherever we liked all year would it ever feel so novel to hear the crunch of gravel and feel cool grass and hot rubber playground padding? If we didn’t have deep darkness, would we take the light for granted?