How’s this for positive thinking?

Considering this has been one of the coldest winters (and snowiest in some parts of the world) in history I can hardly believe I’m saying this:  I was shocked the other day to read we have to change the clocks again next week, March 8 to be precise.  So soon?

Where’s the winter gone?  Oh, I know there are a lot of you reading this who think I’ve lost my mind.  Especially those who live in Boston and may not see pavement again until June or July.  If you’re lucky.

Let me clarify.  It seems to me it was always later in the season when we did this.  You know, move the clocks ahead.  Spring forward.  Fall back, spring forward?  

The scent of summer …

Last Thursday morning when I returned home, from the market, they were mowing our front lawn. Yes, even though I live right in the heart of the city, in an apartment, we’re lucky enough to have lots of green, with both a large front and back garden. No concrete jungle here. We’re surrounded by lots of beautiful old homes, on gorgeous tree-lined streets.

Anyway, I LOVE the smell of freshly mowed grass. Always have, even when I was a child. It’s especially fragrant after it’s rained. No rain the other day.

But the scent was still so intoxicating I just had to stop in the middle of the driveway and inhale several times, breathing it all in, before making my way indoors. If I hadn’t been afraid the gardener would think I was completely out of my mind, I would have scooped up a handful and brought it upstairs with me.

Then I could have sat on my balcony, watching the world go by, sniffing away to my heart’s content.

In that instant I knew summer was well and truly here. Because to me, nothing says “summer” like the scent of just cut grass. Well that’s not quite true. This morning, as I made my way from my bedroom to the kitchen I seemed to walk right into a

Day 205. Spring Fever

I woke up yesterday morning with a terrible case of Spring fever.  Hit me suddenly, too.  Could be because it was so bright and sunny, so early in the morning (must have been my mother’s doing.  She passed February 26, 2007, but she was clearly being her usual, cheerful self, sending me a message and saying “Hi”).

Not a cloud in the almost over-saturated, beautiful, blue sky.

Could also have been the influence of my two cats, who were far more ‘lively’ than they’ve been in a while.  Full, and I mean full, of piss and vinegar.  As if they’d just woken up after a long, deep sleep.  Chirping at me, jumping on and off the bed.  On.  Off.  On.  Off.  Dancing on my head.  Butting noses with me.  Purring madly.

As if to say, “Come on, mommy.  Get up.  Get up.  Get up.  Time to drag your sorry ass out of  bed!  Look outside.  It’s Spring!!!”

Whoa!!!  Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

But I have to admit, I felt it too.  I had more energy, myself.  And it was a ‘different’ kind of energy.  It wasn’t the

Day 12. Fall’s Coming

Much as I hate to acknowledge that summer’s coming to a close, I know it is; and it has nothing to do with the fact that the days are starting to get shorter.  It has nothing to do with all the back-to-school advertising.  Or the fact that Toronto’s CNE (Canadian National Exhibition) opened yesterday.

It’s because yesterday, my cleaning lady brought me a paper bag filled with beautiful, sun-ripened tomatoes from her garden.  She does it every year at this time.  It is an end of summer ritual.  And end of summer, means beginning of fall.  I love the tomatoes.  I love the fall.  It’s winter I’m not crazy about, but I’m getting way ahead of myself here.  So let’s get back to the food most people call a vegetable but is, in fact, a fruit:  The tomato.

I have a love/hate relationship with tomatoes.  I don’t like most of the tomatoes available in grocery stores — even high end ‘epicure’ shops.  They look beautiful.  It’s nice to see all the different varieties, colours, shapes and sizes.  But you get them home and they’re tasteless.

So disappointing, because when a tomato’s at its peak there’s nothing more delicious.  Which is why I love when my cleaning lady brings me samples from her