Monday, April 13, 2009


It's the middle of April and spring might actually be here. It's been above 10 degrees at least twice so far this month - or we've caught Claire Martin twice saying so (yes, we have TV — playoffs are here). As much as we like to hear bleats from baby animals in nearby farm fields, and spot colourful crocuses stirring the soil, and certainly we agree those grad-dress pink blossoms are truly delightful, for us spring brings a different kind of recycling experience.

Last week we dared to leave our long johns in the closet. We look forward to making it official: "no mitt Mondays", "toque-less Tuesdays", and moving those LJ's from a top spot on the closet shelf to a box at the back of the storage space under the stairs — a space upon which we recently bestowed a popular spring tradition. We'd like to clear our pockets of the Kleenex required to curb that continuous winter drip. It's April and we haven't been warm since mid-September last year.

Recycling in rain, wind and snow isn't always unbearable. There was that one cold January day when the white stuff was more friend than foe. Katie was sorting recycling at Steel Pacific when she reached into the bag for the next item and the object slipped (or was dropped) from her grasp. When sorting you don't expect to have your hand covered in a wet, slimy, and yet so aromatic goop. Spaghetti sauce. That glass container must have snuck by the "Clean Recyclables ONLY" sign. If it wasn't for the dirty snow piled around Steel Pacific's yard, Katie might have had a saucy hand all day. A quick dip and wiggle of her hand in the cold snowy pile and she was back in

Also, not having hose access we've come to rely on frequent winter downpours to clean out our totes. Just leave the lids off the bins for a couple of days during winter, let them fill up with rainwater and they're as good as new.

And if it weren’t for the experiences acquired on the winter streets we wouldn't have been able to pass on a practical fashion tip to friends. John and Sandra from Vancouver were visiting other friends in Victoria, so we joined them and our pal, Tasha for brunch one Sunday. City people do brunch. Sandra is extraordinarily urban: stylish, a producer for a TV station, she takes the bus to work (although being born and bred in the 'burbs she does own a car). You'll never catch her in a tent unless she's part of a National Geographic tour of Bhutan and there are lotus petals dotting the pathway to her tent. She attends art class where she sips red wine from a Juliet balcony while painting a picture of Buddha. Sandra and Tasha had spent the previous day shopping: Sandra needed new boots - the winter's heavy snow had totally trashed her black leather (insert name brand here. We missed that part, or else didn't understand what language she was speaking). Katie was able to offer a tip to save her friend a few bucks for next year: Canadian Tire black rubber gumboots for $12.99 will last a lifetime. (Note: this is not an official store guarantee).

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