The Heat

A dull roar builds slowly from silence. At first vague whispers breathing a single key, growing to a stronger, choir of muted noise.

Audibly, the sound of traffic on a hot day is vastly different from traffic on cold days. I'm not sure why, but there's a different quality to the sound, as if it's actually a living, feeling organism being stifled by the warmth, 'hot noise' feels slower, more relaxed and lazy, while wheels on chilled tarmac sound as if they're trying to avoid contact, whipping quickly down the street to take shelter in covered garages.

It was this hot noise that I heard rumbling in the distance when I woke up a week ago to the first truly balmy day of the year, my windows left open overnight as the first opportunity to sleep under nothing more than a sheet presented itself.

We were barely half way through spring when Vancouver (and British Columbia in general) broke a slew of records. In the Fraser Canyon, they saw the hottest day since 1937, and Vancouver downtown has had it's fair share of stifling heat over the past month as well.

Summer in 2009 looks promising, and for a town that gets nearly five months of solid rain, you'd think a more tropical atmosphere would be a welcome treat, but it appears many can't stand the warmth. I hear quiet complaints on the bus home, frustrated sighs while chatting with friends, and hear that some are 'fed up' in the newspapers. I love it.

I love sleeping with the blinds open, windows letting the air in as it gently cools overnight, the sound of sprinklers sputtering and hissing quietly at three a.m, and sunlight striking the walls in the morning to wake me up while the alarm-radio takes a break.

Walking through the streets in the Spring sunshine, things are vastly different. Not only is this city itself a spectacular treat for the eyes, but the mood changes as well. People come out of hiding, sit outside at cafés and in parks, or meet in the evening to drink on outdoor patios, the sounds of casual conversation and laughter fill the air and can be heard blocks away late into the night.

The people are optimistic, full of energy and smiling as they walk the sidewalks.

Just as striking are the myriad aromas from the city's plant vegetation. My sense of smell is shot, but I still stop in my tracks when I'm unexpectedly buffeted by gusts of warm air carrying perfumes of lilac, lily and other crazily strong wildflowers. The earthen patches that have been dormant for so many months suddenly seem to be bursting with fresh greenery.

On the way home, dressed in shorts, a t-shirt and flip-flops, I pause to snap a picture of the alley near my house, the end of which can't be seen as it vanishes into a light haze. Even the alley looks beautiful.

I will miss this town.

Jimzip