Ah, Canada. We are hearty/hardy folk.

Where the men are men and the deer are nervous. Where we are all sheltering in place, waiting for our political leaders to brief us every day on the status of the Covid-19 outbreak. I’ve stopped watching American news because there is very little good news. I well remember the frightening days of the Viet Nam war, when we’d get daily body counts every evening.

Our local hares have been frolicking back and forth across the lawn, in their spring ‘dating’ rituals.

There was snow on the deck and lawns this morning but it’s melted now. Barbecues, fertilizer and lawn furniture have been on the showroom floors of every big box store for months, but with this lockdown, there’s no one to browse, except online. Seeds and some bedding plants are for sale in our neighbourhood grocery store.

Last week when I scuttled into Shoppers Drug Mart to pick up a prescription, I saw a woman in bare feet and sandals on the bottom and a parka on top.

Where you can play hockey and tennis on the same day, wearing the same clothing – snowpants, a toque and short sleeves.

A guy strolling into Costco (old enough to know better) sporting baggy shorts and a sweatshirt.

Where the furnace is on but we don coats and gloves to put our pillows and duvets outside on the deck railing to ‘air out’.

The Canada geese honk their way in confused lines – north, no, fly west, go east – in search of food and open water.

Time to get out my hydroponic greenhouse and start some seeds. This year, I’m going to grow my allotment of cannabis plants. A friend of my cousins planted six last year and harvested a half-bushel of fragrant, fuzzy buds.