Outdoors

Well spring has sprung, or at least I think it has. When you live on the Saskatchewan prairies, sometimes it is hard to define when the winter weather is over for good. Today, it is a beautiful March day; the birds are chirping, the snow is beginning to melt in the yard, and the warm fresh air, brings a touch of fragrance in the wind.

I have to admit, spring is my favorite season. After six or seven harsh months of winter, a person feels alive once again, almost like a bear coming out of hibernation. In a few short weeks, we’ll be able to start planning the garden and flower beds, the grass will begin to poke through the snow, and I can start pulling lawn furniture from the shed, in anticipation of enjoying the warmth of the sun.

In other parts of Canada however, people are already past this stage, and are reaping the benefits of an early spring. In Saskatchewan, it is another story. Even though the weather has warmed and the snow is melting, the weather can change so quickly. We’ve been known to have blizzards at the end of March and into early April. As excited as I am to see the world come to life once again, I have a feeling winter isn’t over until the last snowflake falls.

The public beach spans either north or south. I could never tell you what walking north would grant you for sights. I always head south. It seems less people populate the way. When you have a dog, less is better especially off leash. The houses also seem less crowded perhaps because a few empty lots still remain. I have my eye on one. Not much to look at considering what its price tag must be, but I wouldn’t build a house on a beach anyway. The hint of a hurricane sends the sands flying and the waves would be lapping at your door. No, I want rustic. Pitch a tent, set up camp, imagine the roar of a nighttime fire against the backdrop of crashing waves and try to discern where the water meets the sands and sky. I can live with sand between the toes for a few days. When I tired of it I could always become a squatter in one of those seemingly empty million dollar beachfront homes.

It has become my new dream. Hell, I have my eye on two homes, one a sprawling but not overly pretentious Spanish styled piece of architecture and the other, well it is more for its exterior illumination during/after the sun sets and the way the lights hit the columns on the back lanai than for its architectural appeal. (It is a large box mimicking a Southern Plantation but unable to pull off the warmth despite having the beach for a backyard.) At night the place is beautiful and reminds me of the White House by the placement of its accent lights. I have become more partial to it because it also seems to be the place where I stop to think, digging my toes into the sand, staring out at the sea pondering the myriad thoughts still caught in my head at what has become a sort of land marked halfway point.

Lately I have needed the beach, the sand, the waves, shells, people, dogs, horses, occasional jellyfish and those wonderfully rare tidal pools. I’ve managed to catch the timing perfectly the last two times there. It is a safe haven, a place that strips me back to the innocence and curiosity of youth. My best aired out conversations have happened there and I can watch my dog run like he has no cares, his tail a propeller sending off droplets of water to the air. That is his I’m happiest now tail wag. Seeing it, given his advanced age, makes me happy.

A few years ago if you had asked me I’d have told you I would take a mountain over the sea any day but this stretch of beach holds a dear place in my heart. To live without it’s bounty; I don’t think I could. My mom is the one who loves the sea and I spent many a summer splashing in salted water trying desperately to keep my eyes open despite the sting. I’d be the one running on sand too hot for tender feet and finding a way to get tar on a new bikini. No, the idea of being sticky with salt and sand was not my idea of fun. The mention of the word pool used to make my heart sing. Now I am worse than the dogs tromping through the waves, eager to touch the sand, feel the wind, taste the salt. For a moment time cannot suspend, the cares of the world are left in the car with the shoes. I am at peace; I am connected. Refreshed by one of Nature’s greatest open-air cathedrals.

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