Just as I was starting to feel that there was nothing but winter, past, present, and future, and that spring had been a fever dream, spring came. And it came fast, and although this week it's marred with unpredictable grey clouds that occasionally open up just as you've walked out of work or out of the coffeeshop, everything is green and budding, and the world feels new.
The first spring-like day we had, I took a walk along with the rest of Toronto. The runners were out, no longer afraid of slipping on slick sidewalks. And the neighborhood cats were out, fat with napping on pillows and carpets all winter, picking their way along the damp pavement.
I'd left my bicycle out all winter, so I had to have the chain replaced. But I got it back this week, and have been sailing around the city on fair days and in fair hours, and I feel like a sheep that's been sheared of a heavy winter wool that grew so gradually I didn't recognize its weight.
(I'm still not sure that it's worth it.)
