Ross Andrews Column Various Veins

"Oh oh," said Martha as we came up the sidewalk.

"What?" I said.

"They're going to get their noses nipped," she said, pointing to little green shoots poking up through the mulch.

I don't know what they are, maybe daffodils or hyacinths. They are answering the sun's untimely wake up call in the shelter of shrubbery and our plastic garage.

The sun reminds me of my dad waking me and my cousin with a cheery, "Hurrah boys!" as he flipped the light switch by the bedroom door.

Dad's call to duty, although we considered it bordering on masochism, was within reason. There were horses to be fed and harnessed, tobacco to be primed, and often a kiln to be emptied to make way for the day's harvest.

And there was breakfast.

But this sun has lost its mind, melting the snow coverlet, coaxing the bulbs to send up tender sprouts, and the end of winter still at least a month and a half in the future.

A flock of starlings on Sunday swept like a medieval company of gleaners over our neighbour's lawn across the street. Finished there they crossed to our yard and pecked away at something, weed seeds likely in our case. Isn't it early for starlings to be here?

Snow buntings haunt the shrubbery outside the den window where I peck away at my keyboard. They hop from twig to twig picking at scale-like bits that require repeated spitting out and picking up. Their crops must be scoured raw by such fodder. When the snow melts they disappear only to come back when the snow does. There must be an endless supply of edibles on that bush as well as protection from the occasional hawk.

Two or three neighbourhood cats come and wait under there in hopes of snagging a feathery morsel. I haven't witnessed a kill but the sleek winter coats indicate a plentiful supply of food for these felines. Our son's home is over on the next block, his garden extending to our street. One of the cats has a retreat under his back deck and we know he puts food out for it.

We were in Tillsonburg on Saturday shopping for wallpaper. Chatting with the clerk who hasn't been in this area for long, I described how for many years snow was piled in the middle of Broadway at this time of year until it could be trucked to a disposal area. We'd have to scramble over a ridge at the curb to reach the sidewalk in those days. This season, can't hardly call it winter, we need boots to wade through puddles.

We know from the news that this is not a global condition. People are freezing to death in Europe.

I learned many years ago how to build an igloo with blocks of snow carved from drifts. We have pictures of our kids looking out from the entrance tunnels of these structures. We didn't hollow out banks left along the streets by snowplows. That can be deadly in the event of a cave-in or being hit by a plow winging back snow.

A proper igloo is self supporting, the blocks settled and more or less welded to one another in a spiral that forms a dome. A key block of snow set in the final opening gives the strength of a masonry arch. You may create a window with a pane of clear ice in lieu of snow.

Snow is a good insulator as well as protection from wind chill. Maybe someone should teach the people in the snowy regions how to protect themselves with igloos. The only tool you need is a snow knife to cut the blocks and settle them against one another. A handsaw will do.