Yes, I know T.S. Eliot claimed April as the cruelest, but he didn't live in southern Ontario.
Friday morning looked like this:
The birds were not amused, especially the robins - it was slim pickings for them.
The cardinals were not amused.
Then came Saturday morning: -8°C with dazzling sunshine.
A pair of trusty YakTrax® strapped onto my shoes, let me explore the Ice Land outside my door without too great a risk to life and old-bone limb.
By afternoon it had warmed up to +7. Winter cried, "I'm melting..."
Indeed there was very little left of winter's icy death grip by afternoon and Sunday morning even that was gone. A glorious Easter Sunday blessed us with sunny skies and a cheerful temperature of 14°C. It was one of those grand days when the winter weary spring to life. We shed coats, mitts, tuques, woolly socks and heavy boots. We whistle lively tunes as we survey our gardens and lawns, all while dream-designing the most breathtaking landscaping ever. Everything is possible on such days.
But it's March. This month of considerable frustration also brings freezing gales to suck the joy out of every Spring balloon. And the 2016 version is no exception.
It's snowing here this afternoon. My robin seems unimpressed, though surely he must happy to be "out-standing" in his field. Surely this is better than pecking at last year's sumac berries flash frozen on the branch? Perhaps not...
Yet, in defiance of the weather, stand the finches who have bravely begun to shed their drab winter colours.
A few even mounting a protest march dressed in the early yellows that proclaim the vibrant season waiting on the doorstep.
These little guys know how to handle this cruelest of months -
©2016 April Hoeller