Jordan and I were finally let in on Gabriola’s little secret this past weekend. While the rest of Canada suffers the delusion that the May long weekend is the first, true weekend of summer, it appears as though here on Gabriola, summer starts on the Easter long weekend.

            Yes, its here. An endless summer that spans from April until long after the first frost has hit Calgary or Winnipeg. That makes, hmmm, as near as I can figure, six months of summer. How does anyone ever get any work done here?

            It all started with the Marine festival at Sylva Bay. Everyone was there; the place was really hopping. People were enjoying barbecued lunches on the patio as they watched those energetic young (and not so young) boat builders launch their colourful boats. It was certainly a graduation ceremony that could not likely take place anywhere else in this country. It was totally Gabriolan.

            We were among the many checking out our boats; cleaning up some of the mildew and making sure that it was sea-worthy and party-worthy. Ours seems to have held up well over the winter. Sitting in our small but visitor-ready vessel, we invited passing friends onboard for a bit of refreshment. The docks were humming with the excitement of a gorgeous day, beautiful sky and sparkling ocean.

            The music carried down from the parking lot stage and there is surely nothing better in the world than to sit visiting with friends, gently rocking and knowing that there could be no place better to be at that moment. The beer and coolers were flowing, laughter floating, and skin burning. Summer!

            It was great to see the familiar faces of vendors selling their jewellery and pottery out on the lawn. People were dancing and kids were having their faces painted. It could have been any festival from the middle of July.

            Along the roads pods of kayakers carrying their kayaks on roof racks, fleets of mopeds, and even the few lone RV-ers could be spotted. What could be more summer than this? On my walk the next morning, I met a tourist gazing out at two sea lions, lying with their flippers like they do. She asked if this wasn’t a pod of whales. I hated to tell her “no,” but she was more that grateful for the tidbits of local wildlife information I was able to give her. It reminded me that I should get out my local flora and fauna books now and do a bit of refresher. As Bruce Mason reminded us in a column recently, “it is up to each of us…to treat visitors the way we would like to be treated on holiday.”

            I also ran into an older gentleman, searching for a garage sale. He had the wrong address, but I eventually was able to give him directions. On his return form successfully finding the spot, he stopped and thanked me again. He was very excited that he had found exactly what he had been looking for. I know the feeling well.

            Back at home on Easter morning, I threw open my kitchen window for the first time. I had to pinch myself to believe that here I was cooking Easter dinner on a day like this. I was suddenly struck with the thought that rather than the pork roast and scalloped potatoes we were going to have, perhaps burgers and potato salad would seem more appropriate. Jordan had taken some visitors out on the boat, and I was left to enjoy the sun and sounds of summer coming in my windows. Sounds such as the cars driving down our road in search of the Malaspina Galleries.

            As I sat on the patio while dinner was cooking, I saw my first hummingbird at our new feeder and for a moment actually cursed at the bees and bugs flying by. I suppose you can’t have the good without the annoying. And I do realize that Easter will not always be this perfect, but just let me live this dream a little longer.