The seasons never change quietly. There is always a certain amount of violence involved. The world is shedding a layer of skin. And so am I, when it comes to that.
The close of winter and the advent of spring is a big deal on the Canadian prairies. Winter is such a long, dark season here. And it doesn't go without a fight. But today, when the sun is blazing, the wind blowing, and the water running, it's easy to believe that we've seen the last of it. Easy to feel like life is about to get so much better, for no reason at all. So tempting to throw the scarves and heavy coats in a box under the bed. But I won't quite yet. Because each season has a personality and our spring is an incorrigible tease.
We got our first 'boil water advisory' today. And that is a sure sign that spring is coming. It may snow again tomorrow, but it will be a half-hearted snow, gone before there's enough to shovel. The melting snows have filled our rivers and lakes with all things natural and nasty, like dirt and parasites. So we boil the water. And it tastes like a mud puddle.
So my afternoon has been spent boiling water by the potful and tossing in splashes of lemon juice, slices of cucumber, and slivers of ginger. They make the boiled parasites less vile tasting. And winter seems less unappetizing as well.
Because spring is coming.
And everything tastes better with a little hope.