A slumbering rain god

Drought in British Columbia and other parts of Canada, but especially in Vancouver, which Filipinos have given the moniker “Vanc-ulan,” with obvious reference to its being rainy, in the past few weeks, has blazed the headlines.

Havoc caused by dreaded forest fires has displaced families, threatened fire-fighting resources, and spewed particulates in the atmosphere that blanket seamless blue skies with a cottony pinkish beige smoke, among its ocular effects.

Three nights ago, the news reported 182 forest fires raging here in British Columbia. The closest to Vancouver would be in Nelson, a neighbor of Olympic-mountain, Whistler. But until we woke up to a red, fired-up ball of a sun floating solid through the puffy sky, we griped unaware of the swarm that had sneaked through our insulated homes.

Debbie, a neighbor, had called complaining of tinnitus, not realizing her sinus has been clogged, while I thought I had caught another virus from an unusual runny nose.

How selfish it had later seemed to fret over the smell of smoldering campfire and stickiness from the unwelcome heat.

More exchanges of slight pissed-off-ness in supermarket aisles have to do with limits to watering only once a week, now browning lawns and gardens—dryness had reached Level 3, apparently.

Too, the smell of fast-rotting food that a negligent neighbor has failed to empty out into the organic bin has endangered rifts.

No matter the almost daily watering he does, Shoan, another neighbor, cannot seem to quench his apple tree enough to coax back its curled leaves to freshness. Its fruits, which, by this time, should be an inch rounder, still look like green golf balls.

None of that concerns my sister, though. First off, being sensitive to the wet-coldness of Vancouver, she has since rolled away her sweaters, reveling in the dry heat. Secondly, she has been coming home with bagsful of blueberries she would buy at less than third the seasonal price of a pound from itinerant vendors, who turn out to be farmer-producers themselves, at one of her train stops.

Indeed, locally grown blueberries in bins, instead of two-pound paper boxes, have burst on produce shelves—a rather delightful boon for consumers, but alarmingly too early for growers, according to the news.

Vancouver Courier columnist Trish Kelly cites word from Vancouver urban farmer Llana Labow, who confirmed that, because of the heat, blueberries of all varietals have ripened six weeks ahead of schedule hence, skewing intended consecutive harvest for “extended availability.” The rush to sell at lower prices or grasp alternatives like freezing, would mean unforeseen loses.

Even more worrisome, though, by how much of it would figure out only in 2019 on their return, looms as death among sockeye salmon due to swim back soon for spawning in BC waters—if the heat stays relentless. Beef prices threat- en to spike, as well, due to shrinking grazing areas.

Too, the drought has pricked unsettled cries against corporate deals regarding BC waters, specifically that with Nestle, which “extracts 1 million liters of water annually for $2.25,” the cost of one branded bottle or two and one-fourth of, yes, Nestle’s own “Pure Life”. As voiced by Kelly, demands “for provincial government to better protect our supply” should resume even louder.

Today, the smoke seems to have thinned out, but no news of rain clouds. If rainless days continue, as so much drying up asks for a flame, our Beautiful BC might come out of this summer, bald and ashen. As I write this Thursday noon, we’re praying for rain, beating drums made of our hearts to waken the slumbering rain god, tonight actually, at a Trout Lake gathering in East Vancouver.

“Where have your dreams led you?” We could implore the rain god to rise, and push away skies made of smoke, blow these off with the iridescent blue wings of Steller jays and those of the fast-beating hummingbird.