May Long Get Bombed

This is how my (much younger) cousin celebrates the Victoria Day weekend, by going camping and taking along a few (but just a few, I’m sure) beers, because, as all Canadians know, the Victoria Day weekend is the unofficial start of summer! This morning I woke up to a light skiff of snow on the ground, and my thoughts were happy because it was one degree Celsius, which means that my plants actually did not have frost damage last night. That is how you can tell I am a true Calgarian: I was happy that it was (marginally) above freezing in late May.

But camping! On the long weekend! It seems like this is the thing to do and it’s something I have never understood. For one thing, camping is just not my thing. I love the outdoors, I love being outside IN THE DAY. I love gardening, hiking in the mountains, cross-country skiing, and just generally being outside soaking up the sun, albeit with a thick layer of high SPF sunscreen. However, at night, I like to be indoors, thank you very much. My husband and I went camping for three days on Vancouver Island shortly after we got married, and that, as they say, was that. I’m sure I will be suckered into more camping trips in my life, but I’m not exactly enthusiastic about it. Camping in May, though, seems a bit like utter lunacy, especially in this part of the world, where you can have warm and sunny days followed immediately by a snowfall, which is exactly what happened this weekend.

I seem to be in the minority with these thoughts.

My weekend was lovely though – the weather was beautiful for Saturday and Sunday and so I somewhat frantically worked in my garden, taking advantage of the sunshine and even wearing a t-shirt and Capri pants, which is clearly a sign that temperatures are rising, given my propensity to wear sweaters year round. But I will stop writing about this because I seem to have turned into an elderly woman who can only talk about the weather and her garden. Next thing you know I will be complaining about my varicose veins. Oh wait! I already DO complain about my varicose veins. Maybe I should just make myself a hot toddy and watch the sleety snow fall. The perfect way to end the Victoria Day weekend.