When it comes to weather in Renfrew, I’d have to say that we’re kind of blessed in a way, even though I’m looking outside at a sky that seems determined to drop something I’m not really looking for.
Sure, Renfrew is about as one could expect, weather-wise, from a community that can be classified as occupying a central, southern, eastern part of the province. We seem to go the way others around us go, but then again, not perfectly so.
If the southern province is getting rain, then we’re getting rain. If they get snow, we can expect snow as well. When it’s hot it’s hot, and when it’s cold it’s cold.
That said, we seem to exist in a bit of a weather sweet-spot, or niche zone, where despite weather similarities with our neighbours far and wide, we seem to experience the same things as they do, only to a degree, and that’s not a weather pun.
In my time here I’ve always marvelled at how threatening thunderstorms seemed to loom in the distance only to follow the river and skirt by us. Now, to be fair, it does appear we’re getting our share of thunderstorms in recent years, even violent ones, but we seem to escape the major calamities that befall our brothers and sisters in the Ottawa area.
We’ve heard about lake-effect snow, the phenomenon whereby vasts amounts of snow are generated over the huge open waters of the Great Lakes, in our case mostly Huron, and then discharge that snow downwind, meaning over land, and meaning in our direction as the winds blow west to east. But lucky us, we seem to be just far enough inland that the lake-effect snow doesn’t reach us in great gobs the way it does along the Highway 11 corridor north of Toronto, particularly in the Muskokas.
That area of the province got pasted earlier this winter, with some places around Huntsville and Gravenhurst getting over 100 cm of snow, literally stranding everyone and everything in that part of the province. They then dig themselves out only to get pounded by another 60 cm of snow a couple of weeks later. That’s a lot of time spent in the driveway with whatever tool for machine you use to remove snow. Luckily for us, that kind of storm gets tapped-out by the time it gets here, and I couldn’t be more thankful.
In the summer, I can’t possibly tell you the number of times clouds move in promising rain, only to buzz off and bring their rain somewhere else. I’m not a farmer, I wouldn’t have the courage for it, but the farmers of this area must have a rich vocabulary when it comes to weather and rain, excepting the Mennonites of course, who, if they swear, do so in a manner appropriate to their beliefs.
What I don’t really like is how we seem to sit in that seam where rain and snow have a bit of a tug of war and we get freezing rain. A lot of us travel distance to get to work, or to get to anywhere, really, so the need for us to be on the roads is great. So freezing rain is something we seem to get more than our share of, and it’s a problem. And even if you’re not driving, you better make sure to have those wipers lifted up off your windshield lest you leave a part of them stuck there.
As well, when snow does fall, it’s often full of moisture, meaning it’s slush, and it’s heavy, and all my Mennonite words come pouring out of me, and it’s embarrassing because all my neighbours think I have Tourettes. But you do it anyways, because you have to, because we drive to get everywhere. And then along comes the snowplow with the blade of freshly gathered mush just for you. Sometimes Mennonite profanity just doesn’t seem up to the task.
I’d take 30 cm of snow no problem over that stuff.
So while North Bay is -25°C, and Gravenhurst is buried somewhere in Muskoka, here we are in Renfrew at -10°C and I can still look out my windows, there’s no snow to move, and no snowplow on its way.
And the Mennonites get their language back.
NEWSMAGRENFREW 