My father-in-law has a theory about global warming, and if you were to look out the window at the heaps of snow that linger like an unwanted guest on your front lawn, I’ll bet you could guess what that theory is.

“Where are all the scientists with their warnings about global warming now?” Mike asked not long after spring arrived looking more like a polar bear than a lamb.

This was a rhetorical question to which there was only one possible answer: “the scientists” were in hiding, possibly hibernating deep beneath the Earth’s surface until such time as the snow melted and it was safe to emerge into the light of day to scare the pants off the rest of us.

If it were an unusually warm day, they would surely take it as an ominous sign of our deteriorating ozone layer and the bad habits of people who spend too long searching for a jar of pickles with the refrigerator door open.
“Just watch, the first hot day we get they’ll be out talking about global warming again,” Mike added.  
It was hard to disagree with this logic.

If the Earth is so warm, then why was I still shoveling the front walk in late March?

It was a question many had been asking after weather forecasters recently predicted another six weeks of winter.

Eyebrows were raised and fists were pounded as residents weary of the prolonged frosty season cried out for relief.

Many, including close family members who shall remain nameless unless I want to spend the night sleeping on the couch, have suggested that a small dose of global warming might be just the ticket to beat away the winter blues.

“Bring it on,” suggested someone who again shall remain nameless because our living room couch is too hard on my back. “I can’t take any more of this winter.”

Mike, it should be mentioned, has a deep respect for the environment, and would never think of taking part in any activity harmful to Mother Nature, such as burning an unwanted couch in a campfire like the neighbour three doors from his cottage did last summer.

(I’m holding out hope that the next time the neighbour burns furniture, the black smoke will draw a hungry bear from the woods. We’ll look the other way and block out the noise with camp songs.)  

Al Gore, the former U.S. vice-president who became even more famous for a film warning of the dire consequences of leaving our fridges open for too long – the working title was An Inconvenient Vegetable Crisper – fares no better in my father-in-law’s eyes.

Computer-generated scenes of Florida being swallowed up by ocean water cause Mike to chuckle heartily, not because he dislikes the Sunshine State, but because he sincerely believes Gore is pulling his leg.

Me, I’ll try my best to keep the pickle jar at the front of the fridge, if only to save the good citizens of Florida from a salty fate.