The vicissitudes of fog and rain.

And now for my annual summer report from the south shore of Nova Scotia. Wet and foggy! This concludes my report. Seriously, this is nuts. The sun came out for 22 minutes the other day and we didn't know what to do. By the time we got our yellow rain jacket, and three layers of clothes off the moment had passed. We felt silly for such an obvious seduction. It is the only time I've seen the sun since arriving. To be fair I commute to Ontario to pay the bills and admit there was a sunny day when I flew up to be in the Ontario rain.

Last night as we walked on the beach we were reduced to talking about how lovely it was to walk in the fog and the drizzle when it was so warm. Sounds like Vancouver talk to me.

It's be an odd summer season.

To begin with, the doors swell with this much sustained dampness. If you manage to actually close a door you are in for a fight for your life to get it open again. Each day there are numerous little decisions about doors you wouldn't normally confront. There is a higher degree of risk when you have visitors and minimum standards of privacy are required. Don't stand on a throw rug while fighting a door. I was trying to escape the bathroom the other day when the door finally gave way and I flew across the bathroom and impaled myself on the sink.

Late at night as you lie in bed and hear someone heading for the washroom you can't help but place small private bets as to whether your friends will risk embarrassment of not closing the door or not being able to open it.

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Worse than doors however, is my boat. I haven't yet been out for a sail. This year was to be a big year. I finally managed to get the boat moved from a difficult dock location to the top of the finger dock. This means quick and easy access to the river but also means she takes the sea from a Nor'easter, which we don't get much in the summer (south'wester generally the rule), except, well, this summer.

I was busy cleaning the boat the other day (surprising in and of itself) when a Nor'easter sprung up and before long the waves were rocking the old Eku II consistently. The longer I worked the more I realized something was wrong. Damn it, I was getting sea sick at my own dock. It doesn't get much worse than that down here. I quickly dropped the bucket and headed topside to sit in the rain until I recovered. Bad enough I'm a "Come from Away" who is never around when the docks are laid out or brought in, but seasick at the dock. My God.

I think all this fog is getting to all of us.

The other day I went down to one of my favourite little beaches and found a barbed wire fence closing it off. I've been going there for 30 years. It is a very special place.

The owner apparently wants to build condos or something and is tired of waiting for approvals from the Ministry of Natural Resources. Whatever the motivation, this is not appreciated in Nova Scotia, nor by me. A meeting of a couple of hundred people ensued (I had no idea that many people lived in the area) and trouble is on the horizon.

A day later, a little further down the road the Nova Scotia Ministry of Transport came down to start laying down big boulders to continue its work of protecting a coastal road from the ravages of a future hurricane. Ministry workers were met by some 50 cottager protesters who thought they were at Tiananmen Square. These people stood in front of revving bulldozers until cooler heads prevailed and the local police recommended a compromise meeting two weeks hence.

In the meantime, right where you buy your ice cream at the canteen is a petition that has now been signed by hundreds of people who would rather risk water damage than look out over pristine boulders all summer.

All this while people continue to work away at replacing docks and various buildings, which were impacted either by hurricane Juan last fall or some of the incredible snow storms this winter.

We need some sun.

Michael Atkins is the president of Northern Ontario Business. He can be reached by e-mail to [e-mail]