Scattered across the vast plains of eastern Alberta are numerous small lakes and frog ponds. Winters are long there, and get off to an early start compared with that country south of the border. DN’er Paul Chaimberland comes from there, and his family lives not far from Owlseye Lake. It’s shallow and freezes early. Early in Alberta means October. Paul’s mother keeps an eye on it for him, but last week Paul reported that it was two weeks behind schedule, which does not bode well for the Great Western Challenge, and the ripple effect may trickle down to our first ice, Plymouth Pond.

The chain of events brings to mind the theory of the butterfly fluttering in the Amazon, having profound and distant effects on all kinds of things. But things are looking up. Paul is on his way there at this very minute, confident that the latest weather forecast will bring him a solid plate of black ice the moment he arrives, twenty-five hundred miles from his home near Albany.

The fact that Paul chooses to listen to the weatherman and not his mother gives one pause. Who would you believe? How many weathermen have led us astray? Mothers, on the other hand, will do anything to get their sons to come for a visit. The promise of black ice, a warm dinner, and a short list of handyman duties is a tough siren to resist.

Stand by for updates: will it be Mom or the weatherman?