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Rain, rain, go away
Beyond my back fence there is a tall, stately poplar tree. In summer, it’s verdant green leaves hide my view of houses further off in the distance, making my pocket sized little garden feel bigger and more private than it really is. In autumn, it’s small leaves turn brilliant yellow and on a crisp sunny fall day, they blow in the wind like gold coins, twisting and turning in the breeze. But this week, the weather has been grey and wet. Very wet. Heavy laden with rain, the wind mercilessly tears them from the tree and throws them to the… Read more…
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Birds, blossoms and cages: A sad spring study in contrasts
There’s a clutch of baby grackles being given flying lessons across the road from my house. They noisily greet their parents as they hover nervously close at hand. One of the little one managed to get up to the hanger for a plant basket yesterday. And got stuck. Or scared, I suppose as he didn’t move for the good hour that I watched, but mom – or dad – kept coming back, encouraging the little one to flap his wings. A sibling in a nearby shrub is a little less boisterous. And up above me, in my own tree, I’ve discovered… Read more…
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I love you … I love you not – surviving spring
I love spring. Every year I wait for the snow to melt, eager to start lifting up the heavy, wet leftover leaves in my garden to see the beginnings of signs of new life. Slowly the whole world comes to life. Little snowdrops push through, rewarding me with the first glimpses of what’s to come. About the same time I realize that the cold winter air is beginning to fill with the sounds of songbirds. Out come the rakes and we uncover tulip and daffodil leaves. Purple and yellow crocuses follow quickly and then the starry shapes of chianodoxa. It… Read more…
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Spring has sprung!
I love spring. I love just about everything about this season. Spring is full of promise and of new life. You can’t help but be more cheerful and cast off the pall of winter. The days get longer, the rain clears away the last of the snow and washes away all of the previous season’s dirt and mess. The birds begin to sing again and the long branches of the weeping willows start to turn a glorious shade of yellow. Eventually, the ground starts to warm up and the first hardy souls begin to show signs of life. Slowly, little… Read more…
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Almost there…
Something happened this week. It’s as if a switch got flipped in my brain. I feel optimistic about things for the first time in a long time. The beginning of spring – a little late this year! I don’t know whether it’s because of the time change, which has meant lighter evenings, or the psychological boost that comes with the arrival of the spring equinox. Maybe it was the realization on Friday that there’s actually something growing in my garden, despite the snow which hasn’t fully receded yet. Could it have been the chatter at work, and the Facebook postings of Iranian friends… Read more…
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Wanted: Spring
I have a bone to pick with Wiarton Willie. It was just over a month ago that southern Ontario’s groundhog pointed his head out of his hole and did not see his shadow — predicting an early end to winter. Yet here we are, with less ten days to go to the late “six more weeks of winter” that the site of his shadow would have foretold and not a single sign of spring in the air. February was officially declared coldest on record by Environment Canada and now the Royal Botanical Gardens has measured 15 inches of ice in Cootes Paradise – basically… Read more…
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Lady bug, lady bug, fly away home
The lady bug appeared in the middle of dinner. Indoors. In January. So as we sat, drinking wine and enjoying the meal (why is it that food prepared by someone other than yourself is SO delicious!?), we watched this lady bug with fascination. She wandered all around the dining room table and then made her way up the butter dish, right to the rim. She then proceeded to go round and round and round that butter dish, taking extra care to go out of the way of the one speck of butter that sullied the edge. A busy little orange… Read more…
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Time to make a mess
“When humans create,” he said, “it’s a messy process.” I didn’t really pay a lot of attention to those words last Sunday morning. I was more concerned, I admit, about the harmonies in the next piece of music we were to sing. Besides, I’m not so good at “messy”. As little girls, we’re taught that messy is bad. We are taught to sit nicely, speak politely and generally not be the whirling dervishes our brothers allowed to be. After all, boys will be boys, they tell us. And so it sticks. As a grown woman, I like things to be… Read more…
