“Vancouver is the Canadian city with the best climate and the worst weather.”
The driest September in 116 years led to a Fall marked by unusual sights: fire warnings poised at “Extreme”, tomatoes still on the vine, douchebags still on the beach.
Summer lingered, then lingered some more, disturbing the psychic balance, feeding collective delusions of grandeur and banal urban playground economics. Greenest City? The sunlight reflected off still vibrant deciduous trees and the warm, marijuana-scented autumnal air argue strongly in favour. Summer turned endless and reality took on the appearance of a glossy postcard.
But the rain forest will have its reign. Trees roots are burrowing down and drinking deep. Streets are being washed clean of hydrocarbons and hubris.
Our constructs are buckling under the weight of all that water. Lakes are forming on roads and roofs and the integrity of pressboard is being called into question. Buildings are collapsing, the victims of decay -or soggy wills and leaky imaginations.
Keeping time with the pooling rain, other inventories are accumulating, threatening overflow, seeking the lowest point.
And they will find their way.