Weeks have passed since I have submitted my usual weekly piece for The NOTL Local. I'm still very much working, living and playing in Niagara-on-the-Lake, but my life has recently undergone some pretty wild changes.
About a month and a half ago, I commenced my one-year program to become a certified high school biology and geography teacher. I feel a wholesome excitement and a genuine confidence with this path in life. Stepping into a high school for my first placement was the ultimate test to feel in my bones if this direction was correct for me, and although I never doubted it, I certainly solidified it.
In fact, readers like yourselves who have taken time to shoot me an email, share an article, or say hello in the local Independent grocery store have been an appreciated and integral motivator to pursue this path. Such feedback has helped me realize that whether I am writing these articles, guiding my local adventure tours, or being in a classroom, they all share one common denominator: my drive to educate and inspire people about our incredible and fragile natural world.
The article-writing got tricky as of late. I must admit, besides the in-person placement, online school is absolutely not for me! The workload is heavy, and that's absolutely fine. However, by the time I've submitted my third typed assignment or ended my three-hour online class meeting, I would simply run out of steam to click “Open New” on another word document. That type of screen time is something that I'm personally just not designed for. Like different species within an ecosystem, we all have our place where we operate most comfortably, or, our niche.
My niche is anything with less screen time and more active outdoors time. On that note, despite this hectic new phase of my life, I've found time for a collection of magical, powerful, and eye-opening moments in the great outdoors. I'd love to share and talk with you about it.
First of all, and perhaps one of the most obvious topics on all of NOTL's minds as of late — how about those storms?
I personally don't recollect an early summer precipitation rampage like we've seen in this year. A few markers have lead me to this conclusion, starting with the fact that our basement hadn't flooded in about 10 years, let alone we haven’t had to watch the ponds forming in our backyards after that, and nearly watch it happen again.
Now, I'm going to personify Four Mile Creek for this following conversation. I want you to imagine someone who has been mistreated and served a rough life from their beginning. Studies show that as these individuals evolve through life, their traumatic and altered experiences are likely to manifest and surface in negative ways.
Four Mile Creek wanted to curve and meander, but was made straight. Four Mile Creek wanted to be surrounded by wetlands and forests with deep roots, yet found herself in a neighbourhood of unfamiliar and impermeable concrete. When the world gave her an adult-scale challenge in the form of approximately 100 mm of rain within a handful of hours, she lashed out and couldn't handle it.
I have never seen a torrent of water wash down through St. Davids like that. Miraculously, I happened to feel on top of my school workload on the day where I woke up to a flooded basement and an abyss of water surrounding my house. I was available to help my poor brother, Isaac, as his basement had to be stripped down to bare bones, to save or throw out certain belongings. We were dealing with a couple of inches. Someone else in St. Davids posted online that they had four feet.
I warned repeatedly that turning St. Davids into an effective concrete bowl was not only a disgrace to biodiversity, but a flood threat to our community
It's documented — look back on older articles in The NOTL Local from years ago, as I warned repeatedly that turning St. Davids into an effective concrete bowl was not only a disgrace to biodiversity, but a flood threat to our community. The message was more directed at the Town of Niagara-on-the-Lake and the developers who work with their staff. Flooded basements, washed out infrastructure, and massively flooded farm fields were the result of this shortsighted planning. And it's not over.
A few people reached out to me and naturally asked the question of climate change, and how it may impact the frequency and severity of these storms. Here is what I've mentioned before, and what I continue to stand by: human accelerated climate change is scientifically real. Yes, the world has always cooled and warmed in cycles (just not this fast), I don't think a carbon tax does any use, and we need better planning, planting and habitat protection to mitigate these impacts.
I get a huge buzz out of watching the force of water, especially when it starts doing things it normally wouldn't. I feel for all of the other flooded basement families out there, and I sincerely hope this doesn't happen again anytime soon.
Speaking of water on a more gentle note, I experienced a heartwarming first on one of my guided canoe tours recently. I had all canoes sold out with happy paddlers, but one canoe was special. It contained three generations. Grandmother, mother and granddaughter.
When you see such a situation occurring, it makes you appreciate the power of family and bonding with one another in the great outdoors. I wager that shared experiences in nature bring people closer together, and it was delightful to see the joy all three of them exuded while out on the placid waters of a creek in Fort Erie.
It also leads me to a moment of reflection, both the image of the family on the water, but also internally. Considering the floods and habitat loss, what sort of future are we leaving for the next generation?
Another highlight of my busy summer kickoff has been brief bouts of storm chasing. This year has been a perfect storm for such an odd hobby, as I watch the storms cook up on the radar, track their predicted moves, and attempt to drive to vantage points where I can best photograph them. With all of the impressive heat and humidity this summer, towering cumulonimbus clouds can pop up from a blank slate to a severe thunderstorm warning in less than an hour. The explosive growth of these clouds is fascinating to photograph and film, and makes for am exciting study break.
I wrap up this update-style article with a few simple tricks to stay sane in the summer if you're feeling a little cooped up like me. Go cloud-watching by the lake. Take 10 minutes to walk around barefoot in your yard. Change your office space so the computer allows you to face a window. Work hard for a day inside so you can have a full day off outside. Plan your social life around catching up with fresh air.
Lastly, enjoy summer while we have it — we’ll be complaining that it is too cold in three months!