My Sign of Spring

March. In like a lion out like... What am I thinking? I live in Alaska. I live on a hill. I can't see out my kitchen window for all the snow. My dog has to look down from a snowbank to give me his should-be-patented "black steel" gaze that signals he wants to be let in. To be let in, he has to jump off the snow bank, in through the patio door and try not to hit the kitchen table. I'm kinda glad we did that agility course a couple of years back.

Where was I? Oh yeah, March. Most of North America considers it a herald of spring. I admit, I still have some hope that the end of March will signal the end of all this snow but I'm fooling myself. Completely fooling myself.

Hunter on the other hand considers March the beginning of his spring boating season and with a determination I have never seen in any other human being will get himself out on the boat. Snow or no snow, the man is single-minded in his mission.

The guy spent yesterday chipping one of our boats out of the ice. When I say he spent yesterday, I mean he started chipping right after breakfast and called me mid-afternoon to let me know that he'd almost finished with our bigger boat. He just needed a big enough truck to tow it out of it's icy pit.

My man then gave his good Texan buddy a call with the very best words a good Texan buddy can hear: "Come on out. Bring your truck."

I'm not sure how much time, testosterone and horse power it took to pull that boat out but by golly, they did it. All that's left is to get the ice and snow out of the boat, charge the batteries, change the engine oil and drive it down the launch. Too bad for Hunter, the harbour's still frozen. That's got to be killing him. I think that's why he started on the small, easier to launch boat in the driveway.  

That particular boat is buried under a six-foot snow berm. At least it was until this afternoon. Quietly disappearing outside under the mumbled guise of changing the oil on his truck, my man set to work digging that boat out of the snow. That was no small feat. Took him most of yesterday evening and this morning to get that thing dug out.

Not sure his plans for that boat - I recall and now regret showing him a video on ice canoeing in Quebec City. Surely that wasn't his plan for the small boat? Just in case, I decided to stash the leggings in my closet. If he dared wander by sporting a pair, it was time for a talk.

Forget the robins, forget the rain, forget the pink cherry blossoms my Victoria friends are bragging about. Forget that I can walk up the snow berm in my driveway and easily onto the roof of the house. Forget that it's freezing cold outside. Spring is about to be hitched to the back of our truck and towed down to the harbour.

Apparently the small boat, though dug out, is still stuck behind a mound of snow. Head's up good Texan buddy, a call is coming with that most coveted of invitations: "Come on over. Bring your truck."