Where to from here -
You'd be hard pressed these days not to notice the many signs the seasons are changing.
The shear number of days of straight rain alone declares spring is just around the corner. And I am certainly pleased to toss my Sorels into the back of the closet but deep in my subconscious I know it might be premature. I am uneasy because I have for many years now, missed the season entirely. I've jumped from winter's snow rage right into the swelter of mid summer four years in a row. How is it that a seemingly typical young woman like myself possesses the ability to skip seasons?
I don't have any magic powers.
I don't practice some unusual Easter voodoo.
I don't even leave the country.
No, I'm afraid it's much simpler than that. The simplest in fact. I've been going home to the Northern Peninsula during the first week of May every year to fish lobster.
Many of you are surely still confused.
What does lobster fishing on the Northern Pen have to do with the disastrous loss of the most optimistic season?
Well, let me elaborate through example. Last spring, like other springs, it was freezing. Ah ha, you say, freezing! Something we, as Newfoundlanders and Labradorians, as Canadians, can understand. The weather is arguably the most universal topic of conversation. On this common note let us discuss how cold it was last year atop the waters of St. John Bay where I lobster fish with my father. So cold, in fact that I wore up to four pairs of pants under my rubber gear, three shirts, two sweaters, scarves, hats, gloves under gloves, wool socks were in no short supply. And let me tell you, urinating is a real problem when you're wearing all that clothing but I wear it anyway! Still, I was freezing. Hauling lobster pots along the shoot, shoving frozen bait down over skiver nails did nothing to alleviate my frosty limbs. I would usually spend our short lunch break slurping soup in front of a wood stove. All windy days were spent inside in my bunk reading, dreaming of sand and sunshine though I would have settled for a walk along the land-wash.
Now, it wasn't cold every single day. There were actually a couple pleasant days mixed in there, enough to give us hope, just enough to tease us. What was shocking was the extremeness of the spring weather on the Pen. Like flashes from a nightmare, I clearly picture my father two years ago wearing his army jacket and skin boots in our yard. He has dropped the already weighed down clothesline and is smashing ice from it with my high school broomball stick. Seriously, this was the extent of an ice storm that crippled the fishery during it's first week. Such that the boat of a fellow fishermen and family friend sank before the fishery fully got underway. Luckily, it was recovered though not without extensive damage to a brand new motor.
Spring: the season that inspires elementary students everywhere to colour beautiful pictures of lilies and tulips, when young women cast off their thick winter gear for light, flowery sun dresses. It's the season of renewal, the season of love, the season of rebirth if you will. All these things apply to the Northern Newfoundland as well and like anywhere else, people are eager to trade in snowpants for shorts and sandals, they are looking forward to prom dresses and swimming holes. Even my cat is excited to have the windows open.
So as lobster season is about to open for another year I find myself wishing, hoping, yearning, almost praying for a warm spring on the Northern Peninsula. Whether it be a God, or gods, karma or the result of global warming, I am pleading with whomever or whatever is responsible for the weather's attitude this year: please, send us some sunshine.
Would that be too much to ask?
Heat the waters to a sufficient enough temperature to encourage those lobsters to move into traps, will you?
Cause really, above all else, a fine lobster season would warm me up.
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