O Inconstant Spring

As I find myself looking longingly for spring, when there is none to be found, I can only look back to find it. A few years ago, we were guilty of fleeing the drab and chill of a Canadian March and heading south to the near-tropics of Florida. We fled for a week to a land of white sand not grey snow, of warm breezes not cold rains, and a place with birds whose calls we did not recognize, and with flowers of fantastical shapes and hot colours.  We enjoyed it thoroughly, with bare feet, sunburned noses, and that crunchy salted flavour that all picnic food gets at the beach. Then we had to come home.

My three-year-old made a valiant attempt to convince the rest of us that we could stay in Florida. He was certain that Grandpa and Grandma’s tiny condo could hold all of us indefinitely.  I did long for my own bed, but I admit that there seemed to be little else drawing me back to the North. We returned home at night, stole out of the car in our spring jackets and hurried into our cold and darkened house, quickly crawling into our fleecy pyjamas and under our heavy blankets. Canada could wait until morning.  

When morning arrived, it did so arrayed in dazzling sunlight. We realized that spring had almost arrived in our absence.  Nearly all of the ice patches had disappeared. Clusters of tulip leaves were breaking through the soil. Brave crocus buds, filmily hinting at brilliant colour to come, stood in the garden. And we heard a new yet familiar sound—then we saw them;  the returned robins, hopping along our back fence, calling to each other as they waxed nostalgic about their summer home.

No trip to the south, to an unreal summer, can replace the stirrings of hope and the thrill of discovery that a spring in Canada bestows. It carries the same excitement that the first snowfall brings in November and, in their turn, the first truly hot day in May, and the first fully-turned maple tree in September.  Having just returned from warmer climes did not make us immune to the charms that lay half-hidden in the mud in our own backyard. These were harbingers of beauty and warmth yet to come and they were hard-won.

The weather did not hold. A couple of days after returning, we were again boot-deep in snow, topped by freezing rain. Springtime in Canada never progresses predictably! Undaunted, the kids pulled out the sleds and enjoyed the icy speed of the newest white covering while it lasted. This was not long-- it all melted in less than a week.  Melting--I can only imagine!