And it shows up in the spring as snow melts away and reveals a layer of grey fuzz on your lawn. It developes when the ground isn't very frozen before it gets covered with a thick blanket of snow that lasts for months.
Often as the mould is uncovered it produces a nasty smell, not unlike the dog poop that also gets exposed in the spring.
I know there's not much we can do about the mould. And about all we can do about the poop is complain about inconsiderate dog owners who refuse to abide by the bylaws and frequent signage that state owners must pick up after their leashed poop machines.
It's not the fault of the dogs. It's the people who are disgusting.
But even with these stink factors and the dirty layers of sand and gravel that cover everything after being spread around and left behind by street sanders over the winter, I get excited. Spring is on the way!
Yay! We've survived another winter.
Another winter of lockdowns, restrictions and mandates.
The result of which adds another nasty layer appearing as the snow recedes.
Face masks.
People are disgusting.
We walked to Save-On yesterday and I decided to count masks along the way. We were chatting as we walked so it is quite likely I missed some. I obviously only saw one side of the street as we walked, but there were forty one.
Forty one discarded face masks lining the 1.9km-each-way trek from my house to Save-On.
People are disgusting.
Today I did my walk in my old neighbourhood. I counted masks again, and even took photos, as I walked along Pinewood from Ospika Blvd to Westwood Dr, (I'd estimate it's about a half kilometer stretch) I counted 18. On the sidewalk. On the road. In people's driveways. On their lawns.
People are disgusting.
I read recently on the City of PG Facebook page that there are 693km of city streets. (Do you follow their page? They have a new writer and their posts are often hilarious.) I walked about six of those kilometers in the past 24 hours and stepped over 59 freaking facemasks.
People are disgusting.
Before we moved into town from 'the farm' seventeen years ago, I spent months driving around different neighbourhoods assessing things like how fast the snow melted, how many kids hung out on the street, and how close were the bus stops before I chose an acceptable neighbourhood. Being close to a bus stop for Jed was a definite prerequisite.
However, if I were doing the same experiment today, being in close proximity of a bus stop would no longer be a prerequisite, but rather a detriment. It's my unscientific observation that living within two blocks of a bus stop will pretty much guarantee that, come spring, your yard and driveway will will be filled with a layer of discarded face masks.
People are disgusting.
And I kinda wish I'd bought shares in the face mask industry two years ago.
