springtime

I am not one to wax poetic about the weather. Let's face it - most of the year there's very little to wax poetic about in this burg of extreme climactic conditions. But after a winter of grey, cold and snowy discontent it's difficult to supress a smile when we hit a string of days like the ones we're now having in Southern Ontario: not a cloud in the sky, very light breezes, cardinals and jays chirping on tree branches, glorious 14 degrees, not a trace of black slush left anywhere, nubile nymphets gamboling up and down the avenue in their flip-flops, laughing and flirting with schoolboys. Spring is not often a very nice season in these parts: it's usually the fall that amazes with its warm glow and blazing colours but so far, April is as good as anything Paris can offer (well, except for the fashion, the architecture, the food, the wine, the women and the culture....wait a minute....that leaves.....cardinals and jays!!!) Never mind! It's glorious outside and I relish my daily constitutionals like you would not believe.

Spring has sprung, the grass has ris...