A strange sound coming indoors through the open bedroom window woke me with a start.
“What could it be out there?” The city is seldom fully quiet, no matter the time of day or month of the year.
Before drifting off to sleep I had identified the sound of the cars banging together at the rail yards and a train whistle blowing for what seemed like a long time. A vehicle roared up the street somewhere in the distance. A cat yowled in feline agony, maybe because a skunk’s perfume was in the air.
Then to sleep, to wake to a dog greeting the morning with a cheerful yip; some early birds expressing their pleasure in light-hearted chirps; another or maybe the same cat expressing unhappiness over some perceived ill treatment. And then, in the distance, I heard it.
A honk. Not a car horn honk, but a honk from a goose. Then another honk and then several more honks, saying “Hi Moose Jaw. We’re back. Nice to be here again.”
Or maybe the flock was suggesting to the leader that he/she should have turned left instead of right, thus taking the group someplace else other than Moose Jaw. No, those were honks of goosey happiness and anticipation, as they looked for ponds and fields suitable for nesting locations.
What a glorious way to start the morning. Then that cat yowled again, disturbing one of the first signs of nature returning to welcome the season of spring. The honking soon grew distant, hopefully not to be scared away by a cat that should find itself a new back alley.
The geese, though welcome, were not the first signs of a new season. A robin has already checked out the yard before inviting friends to come and spend time in our company once the time is ripe for making new nests and finding worms in the freshly dug garden patch.
A week earlier, some of the tulips had already poked their heads through the earth, seeking the sun and preparing to bud out into glorious blooms, as they have done in this spot for several decades. They have survived and even thrived without much maintenance from the homeowners. Shame on us.
And so, the signs of the new season are sprouting all over, including some that are not so welcome.
The puddles of water from the melting snow successfully hide road hazards and only show themselves as drivers swerve to miss one pothole, only to hit two more even large holes. It has become a challenge to map out a route, avoiding narrow side streets where it is impossible to safely zig and zag. My particular horror story takes place on Fifth Avenue Northwest from Caribou to Oxford. A tank would have trouble on that avenue.
Those same puddles are also temptation for some drivers, the ones who think it is hilarious to speed through the waterways, splashing vehicles and unlucky pedestrians in their wake. That’s a punishable offence but who can catch a licence plate number with eyes full of grimy water?
This time of year is a bonus for owners of car washes: just check out the lines of vehicles, owners waiting to return their cars and trucks to the original colours underneath the dust and dirt of the spring.
Thus the sights and sounds of spring that will soon lead to summer are here again, welcomed back by most of us who have resolutely endured extended periods of bone-chilling temperatures, snow drifts and blocked or closed highways.
With all this excitement of nature, I do have it marked on the calendar: put those winter tires in storage after thanking them for a job well done — not one instance of being stuck in a snowdrift this winter. That’s a gripping achievement!
Joyce Walter can be reached at ronjoy@sasktel.net
The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect the position of this publication.
