One deep breath later.

Jane Street, last night.

Last night, it thunderstormed. A lot. Enough, in fact, that the storm spawned several funnel clouds, at least one of which was powerful enough for most people to consider it a full-blown tornado. The City of Vaughan, which includes the lovely little village sprawling suburb of Maple where I live, was clobbered. But not as hard as Woodbridge, just minutes away, where around 200 homes were destroyed.

Closer to, houses only one street away suffered severe damage, with pieces of roof being peeled off wholesale, the streets full of shingles and fragments of plywood sheeting as a result. Street signs were bent flat to the ground, and I drove through what I guess to be about 30 centimetres of standing water at one point. A friend from around the corner reported seeing a tire fly past her window - prompting her to retreat with her family to the basement.

This morning the weather is beautiful, and city work crews, labouring under the edicts of a municipal state of emergency, have done a stand-up job cleaning up the roads. For the most part, people seem to be taking all this calmly; tornadoes aren't unheard-of in this part of southern Ontario, although generally they stay a little farther north. But many have lost their homes, and one family in Durham has, regrettably, lost their eleven-year-old boy. I'm selfishly trying not to think about that, and breathing more easily now that the weather seems settled.

Grumpy

From the archives, a vintage button:


That's me on the left. Now you know why I complain about the weather, not to mention everything else.

Another weekend

...and it's just now started pouring rain. Which defeats my Grand Plan to actually get around to cutting the grass this weekend. It's been so dry here that the front lawn is actually nice and short, if a little parched - but the back, which gets more shade and doesn't drain as well, is looking like a weedy, overgrown mess.

Ah well, maybe tomorrow. Or next week. In the meantime, here are some daisies from the garden:



In good news, the tomatoes planted by the Junior Ricardipi are ripening up nicely, and the basil is growing like the proverbial house on fire, making some tasty Tomato and Basil Sandwiches a distinct possibility in the near future. Mmm.

It's good to be sitting here at home though, rather than fighting with the daily commute, which on Thursday turned into a right royal pain in the... you know. The lovely 360 Maple Express bus, which is reasonably reliable in getting me home each night, decided to have a bit of a hiccup. Distinctly lacking in torque, and alternately wheezing geriatrically and roaring like a lion with a thorn in its paw and a red-hot poker in its [deleted], it managed to haul itself onto Highway 400 before giving up the ghost entirely.


At which point, we sat for about an hour waiting for a relief bus. As we were passed by:

1. Another 360 bus, which clearly hadn't gotten the message that we were parked.

2. A horrendously ugly Scion xB, which I believe isn't even supposed to be available in this country, and which I shall continue to complain about every time I see one.

And, to add insult to injury,

3. A coach, proudly bearing the logo GOBYBUS.CA as it roared past, cheerfully advertising the many virtues of travel by non-defunct, still-mobile autobus transportation.

Sigh.

Anyway, eventually a cheerful OPP officer showed up to ensure we could safely exit the vehicle on the verge of a major highway, without even getting run over, and we piled into another bus that had appeared to pick us up. An hour and a half late, home, just in time to brush some teeth and kiss a couple of kids goodnight.

It's enough to make me wish for a gas-guzzling, comfortable car instead of the environmentally friendly, but increasingly unreliable bus. Maybe one of these here Aston Martin thingies, in a natty shade of black like the one I saw downtown a week or two ago. That'd do.

Icy

Snow. On top of freezing rain. On top of snow.

Pretty though.