The lawn dragon

 

This lawn dragon always presents himself, or is it herself, in just the right way for the season. With Valentine's Day just around the corner, I see hearts in this dragon's future.

The law of induced demand

Londoners get around by car. Oh, there's a bus service and there was a discussion for a Light Rapid Transit system. The LRT idea never took flight. Very early on it was replaced with the promise of an almost as good, but a some what less expensive, Bus Rapid Transit system.

On the drawing board, the BRT system was going to serve the entire city. But before a penny was spent, two big segments of the BRT system were scrapped. Then funding became a question.

What I don't understand is why, when a heavily traveled street like Southdale Rd. W., shown, is upgraded, some thing is not done to widen the roadway with the goal of providing for even a crude BRT system. But the road is widen for cars and cars fill the new, wide road. It is the law of induced demand.

Building roads alone does not solve traffic congestion problems in the long term. Build it, widen it, add more lanes and drivers will be attracted to the new open roadway. The result? Traffic will increase. The British government did a study showing that increasing traffic capacity coaxes people to drive more – a lot more. Fully half of any driving-time savings resulting from the opening of a new roadway is quickly lost. The oh-so-costly benefits will all be negated within a decade.

The story in the footprints

The footprints in the freshly fallen snow once said Canadian footwear of high quality construction made by a small, successful Canadian company.

The company was Kaufman Rubber Co. of Kitchener, the Southwestern Ontario city an hour east of London.

And the boots were Sorels. They were big, clunky, warm and oh-so-protective. My favourite winter boots remain my Sorels purchased two decades ago. A tag, still visible inside, reads Made in Canada. Those original Sorels would last almost forever.

And that was one of the problems. The damn boots would last and last. Two decades ago the Kaufman company closed.

But that's not the end of the story. The name and trademark were picked up by the American company Columbia Sportswear. The line was expanded and in 2017 the Sorel brand had a net income of $228.8 million.

Needing a pair of less well-worn boots, something suitable for more than digging out the drive and trudging about the local ski hill, I bought some new Sorels last fall. The boots are big, bulky, well-made and good to -40 degrees. And oh, these boots have a tag inside too. It reads Made in Veitnam.

The ice pad may soon be open

Our neighbourhood ice pad, like so many ice pads scattered about London, Ontario, is still without ice and here it is January 20th. But the temperature is dropping, it is not only below freezing at night, it is now below freezing during the day. Since ice pads like this one do not have refrigeration pipes, the cold air temperature is needed.

The maintenance staff at the nearby school will be running a hose to the pad and it will be watered daily. I would not be surprised to see kids skating or even playing a pick-up game of hockey on the pad by mid-week.

The ski hill in London has an interesting past

The land around London is essentially flat. It was left smooth by the slow passing of a massive glacier thousands of years ago. When the ice sheet retreated, it left a large deposit of rock.

That rock, some ground into fine sand while trapped in the glacier, is why my London home was once surrounded by gravel and sand pits. The last quarry is going through the closure process today.

Some experts say my London suburb, Byron, is the place where a number of moraines converged. The Byron Bump, Boler Mountain, is the wonderful result and hundreds of skiers enjoy the benefit of its presence today.

And those slopes today, the result of the retreating ice, are often only snow-covered because of immense snow-making machines.

Irish Ferguson left his mark on London

On the back of the chair in the middle of the pictures it says, 'In Memory of "Irish Ferguson" '. Irish Ferguson was one of the most alive old men I've ever known. He had a youthful love of life that stayed with him right into his senior years.

The story of the London ski hill starts way back to the late '40s. At that time it was only one run at the end of gravel road. I cannot say for sure when exactly Irish got involved but it may have been right at the beginning or shortly thereafter. Irish was a dreamer and a man who liked to make dreams a reality.

I knew Irish from my sailing days on Lake Huron. We both kept our sailboats in the marina at Bayfield. The sailing club owes a lot ot Irish as does the former London Ski Club, now known as Boler Mountain.

Today the little hill that could has three quad chairlifts serving 16 runs. Some like to call the place the Byron Bump but everyone calls it a success. It provides a wonderful opportunity for children to enjoy skiing in an area not known for its winter sports. The hill may be small but its lifts are efficient and skiers not only come down fast but are returned to the top quickly.

Whenever I see the lift with Irish's name on the back, I have to smile. Irish was an example to all of us.

A friendly neighbourhood with caring people

It looks like an average suburban neighbourhood and it is. But don't for a moment think it is filled with uncaring folk living without a thought for their neighbours. I doubt that there are many suburban spots that answer to that cliched view of what are often referred to disparagingly as a bedroom communities.

I have a bad heart. I lose my breath when I do stuff outside with my grandkids. Neighbours have noticed. At the first sign of snow, I often have a neighbour show up unannounced to clear my driveway and my front walk. I appreciate it but my how it underlines the fact that I am getting old.

The photo, by the way, does not show my home but illustrates how snow can tie a scene together visually. I find winter, thanks to the snow, one of the easiest times for taking beautiful images. (At least, when the now is fresh. If snow gets too old, all bets are off.)