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As I look outside the window right now out onto the street, I find myself somewhat puzzled.

For one, I can clearly see the roadway along Progress Avenue, only hidden by a very thinning sheet of slush. When I look upward, I'm seeing snow melting on the rooftops of homes and garages, and it appears to be "raining" from the balcony above mine as that melting only continues.

Speaking of my balcony, it's bone dry. I could've sworn that it was covered in above eight inches of snow about a week or two ago, wasn't it?

It's sunny out, with blue skies and not a lick of wind in the air. The temperature is an almost balmy +2 degrees, and based on a look at the upcoming forecast, that's only going to continue. They're actually calling for double that temperature on Thursday, with +4 being promised.

What the heck is going on? This is rural Saskatchewan in the last week of February. Shouldn't we be sitting in -25 weather with a thick blanket of snow covering any and all visible surfaces?

There's a reason why most people around these parts come to dread January and February because the winter weather is particularly punishing during those months of the year, but February appears to be going out on a warm whimper.

For crying out loud, I literally just saw a flock of birds flying out above Outlook right now. Did they cut their down-south vacation short this year?

Call it chinook weather, call it a sign of the times, the bottom line is we'll gladly take it.

What exactly is chinook weather, you may be asking? Well, let's look back and read some interesting Canadian weather history of such a phenomenon.

Chinook winds, or simply Chinooks, are two types of prevailing warm, generally westerly winds in western North America: Coastal Chinooks and interior Chinooks. The coastal Chinooks are persistent seasonal, wet, southwesterly winds blowing in from the ocean. The interior Chinooks are occasional warm, dry föhn winds blowing down the eastern sides of interior mountain ranges. The coastal Chinooks were the original term, used along the northwest coast, and the term in the interior of North America is later and derives from the coastal term.

Along the Pacific Northwest coast, where the name is pronounced /tʃɪˈnʊk/ ('chin'+'uk'), the name refers to wet, warm winds off the ocean from the southwest; this is the original use of the term. The coastal Chinook winds deliver tremendous amounts of moisture both as rain along the coast and snow in the coastal mountains, that sustain the characteristic temperate rainforests and climate of the Pacific Northwest.

In North American western interior, the same name is used for föhn winds, generally, where the Canadian Prairies and Great Plains lie immediately east of various interior mountain ranges. There the name is pronounced /ʃɪˈnÊŠk/ ('shin'+'uk'). The same warm, wet coastal winds can also become the warm föhn winds on the eastern sides of mountain ranges, after having lost their moisture on the western sides; however, due to expanded use of the term in the interior for any föhn wind, interior Chinooks are not necessarily originally coastal Chinooks.

Chinook weather is interesting when you look at the sheer numbers involved.

In Pincher Creek, Alberta, the temperature rose by 25.5 °C (45.9 °F), from −23.2 to 2.2 °C (−9.8 to 36.0 °F), in one hour on 6 January 1966. During the winter, driving can be treacherous, as the wind blows snow across roadways, sometimes causing roads to vanish and snowdrifts to pile up higher than a metre. Empty semitrailer trucks driving along Highway 3 and other routes in southern Alberta have been blown over by the high gusts of wind caused by interior Chinooks.

On 27 February 1992, Claresholm, Alberta, a town just south of Calgary, recorded a temperature of 24 °C (75 °F); again, the next day 21 °C (70 °F) was recorded.

The records that have been attached to chinook weather make for some interesting patterns to witness.

Loma, Montana has the world record for the most extreme temperature change in a 24-hour period. On January 15, 1972, the temperature increased from −54 to 49 °F (−48 to 9 °C), a 103 °F (57 °C) change in temperature.

Spearfish, South Dakota holds the world record for the fastest increase in temperature. On January 22, 1943, the temperature increased from −4 to 45 °F (−20 to 7 °C), a 49 °F (27 °C) change in temperature. This occurred in just 2 minutes.

Spearfish, South Dakota also holds the world record for the fastest decrease in temperature, for the same day. On January 22, 1943, the temperature decreased from 54 to −4 °F (12 to −20 °C), a 58 °F (32 °C) change in temperature. This occurred in 27 minutes.

Rapid City, South Dakota had the world record for the fastest decrease in temperature. On January 10, 1911, the temperature decreased from 60 to 13 °F (16 to −11 °C), a 47 °F (26 °C) change in temperature.

Could temperatures like these even be possible up here in Saskatchewan? Who knows, but I like the idea of walking around in shorts and sandals in the middle of March.

Either way, we'll certainly take the snow and ice melting, as well as the much clearer roads.

Of course, having written such a column about wacky weather and higher than normal temperatures, I may have just cursed our good luck and doomed us to a week of -30 and a fresh blanket of snow. My bad!

For this week, that's been the Ruttle Report.