Yes, There is Dirt.

With the Local’s Report spending a week off checking out the Mexican surf, I thought maybe I should head a little south too. I heard a grapevine rumor one day in Freshies, that by heading south, driving, and no airplane needed, eventually you would reach a land with no snow on the ground and there was actually dirt, raw dirt, exposed to the sky. And in this dirt, I could find the crocus’s I longed for (see earlier post) and perhaps even a few daffodils. It would be possible to dig your fingers in this dirt and smell the coming of spring.

So packing up my little white box with the Apple cut out of the top, a few shirts and sweaters, tossing in my running shoes for good measure (and with a dose of optimism), I filled the gas tank in my car and headed south.

A couple hours before I left Fernie, it started snowing. Not a dusting of snow, but a real three or four cm an hour snow. The sort of snow that puts you to bed with visions of knee-deep powder in the morning. Bluebird skies if we’re lucky.

But no, I headed South in search of a myth. Dirt exposed to the sky with daffodils blooming. The elusive winter grail of raw dirt open to the sky. And an early spring flower or two.

Of course the first “barrier� was the US Border where a uniformed guy made me feel like a smuggler as he checked my back seat, dug around in my duffel, opened the trunk and rummaged around some more. Just as I wondered if I was about to get the full “Please pull over into that space� treatment, he waved me on saying, “Have a good visit.�

With that welcome, it will only to get better.

Six hours south of Fernie, the land lay drifted, but still frozen. Places were free of snow, but it was sage lands and not conducive to blooming spring flowers. Filling up my tank again, I continued on. Southward at 120 km/hour. Seeking. Searching.

And lo, in a place called the Columbia River Gorge, where that great river that starts just over the hill, passes through the Cascades to the ocean, I found dirt. Real dirt. In a little town called Stevenson, I found dirt so soft it was sliding off the hill. People moved out of their houses and others almost moved out of their houses, because the dirt was so soft it was sliding into the river threatening to collapse the banks and flow into the neighborhoods below.

And there were daffodils 20 cm high, yellow on bright green stalks. And little purple crocus’s scattered in beds across the edges of lawns. Instead of snow, it rained incessantly.

After a few days, I left. My feet were wet. My jacket was wet. Little flowers in the woods only go so far when there remains over two months of good skiing on the hill.

Now, I’m back in Fernie. I’m all dried out. I understand there is dirt down south and eventually it will re-appear here in Fernie. But until then, I’ll be happy with the falling snow and the bluebird days of knee-deep powder.

Simpler and better times to be sure.