You gotta love Canadian weather. Sunday, May 21st, just a week ago, DH was out on the deck barbacuing wearing a coat, and could see his breath when he breathed. Fifteen minutes north of us they had sleet. An hour north of us they had snow!! Time shift to today. The temperature was in the mid 30's, but the humidity made it feel like it was in the 40's.
And to make sure that we all got to appreciate this sudden largess of hot weather the Toronto transit operators decided today would be a good day to stage a wild cat strike. No warning for the hundreds of thousands of commuters who depend on the buses/subway/streetcars to get to work. We all woke up this morning to the local radio stations announcing that Torontonians were going to have to hoof it to work, or drive, or bike or whatever. Since we live in Georgetown, northwest of Toronto, and I work in Mississauga, which is a different transit system, I had no worries about getting to and from work, but many of my co-workers had to scramble to make other arrangements. DH drives me to work in the morning, which is greatly appreciated since it would take me an hour and a half to get to work, and another hour and a half to get home, at least. Oh, the strike, being illegal, was order to cease by the court system and this evening the transit system is slowly getting back up to speed. Hopefully tomorrow will be a normal travel day.
Back to work after a weeks holiday. Very hard to do. DH is off until Wednesday though so we can sleep in until 6:30 still, which is a much more civilized time to get up then 5:30, our usual time. DH got the air conditioning fired up tonight, since the temperatures are to remain high until the end of the week. By the weekend we're suppose to be down to 18 degrees again, which will be just fine by me. Can work in the garden in those temperatures.
I've headed this post with a picture of Phoebe, sitting in our front livingroom window, watching the birds flying by and landing in our front yard.
Today we went to Ken Johns memorial service, which was held in Weston, which is where we both grew up. My Mom went with us. It was a lovely service, with people sharing their many "Ken Johns stories" and there was lots of laughter and smiles. Ken Johns was a man who touched a lot of lives and had a great many friends. A whole town full of people it seems. He was one in a million.