Dog days of summer

Ah yes, the dog days of summer. When the star, Sirius, shines brightest in the night sky; the sun hangs about long into the evening; the weather is warm; the trees green and full.

It’s hard to believe a scant six months ago, the temperature was a breathless -30C. Fast forward to present and the mercury has jumped 60 degrees. One of the few joys of living on the prairies, I suppose.

It has been years since I’ve spent the summer in Winnipeg. (Even though I have been back for over a year, I spent the better part of last summer abroad.) Honestly, I’d forgotten how lovely this city can be at this time of year.

Perhaps when one leaves the city and becomes a, “I grew up in Winnipeg,” guy, one becomes so used to the inevitable, “God, the winters must be miserable!” and is so quick to defend them with a quick, “But, it’s a dry cold!” one never has time to consider the summertime.

Well, I’m considering it now — and think it’s splendid.


What’s not to like: hot weather, sunny skies, lush foliage, a steady stream of events and activities (i.e., Jazz, Folk, Fringe). Heck, just last week, on my day off (few and far between these days), I spent the day at the beach. The beach!

I bet those Toronto-centric, Eastern-Canadian, big-city sonofaguns didn’t even know we have beaches. Well, we do! And they’re lovely.

Granted, our summers are short — and it isn’t every year they’re this hot, sunny, and bug-free. But in a town with little to brag about (murder capital, longitudinal centre of the continent, not being Regina), I’ll gladly champion Winnipeg in the summertime.

Oh sure, I can think of a few places I’d rather be in the summertime (Barcelona tops the list), but beggars can’t be choosers; so, when not hunkered down in the kitchen, I count my blessings and celebrate these dog days in the Peg.


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