By Megan Goodacre


Well, do we dare say that spring is here? It's April Fools today, but it might as well have been on Sunday morning, when I looked outside to find 7 inches of fresh snow (although Charles says it was 6 but that could be his chronic optimism). But I did see a cardinal the other day. And last night, I watched a plump raccoon digging through our compost. (Why are squirrels evil but raccoons delightful? Probably because a squirrel will chew through the shed wall to get to the compost then chew through the compost bin and then knock it over. A raccoon will politely and quietly open the latch of the compost lid then retrieve a slice of stale bread and then close the lid behind him and then leave quietly. Squirrels are demonic toddlers while raccoons are harmless hooligans.)

It has been a long winter. My first full winter in Canada proper, having been a privileged Vancouver Island princess most of my life. By the gods it has been a long winter. With a snow-removal budget in the red by 21.5 Million Dollars, a rime of salt and grit on every available surface including my foyer, and Ottawa residents as pale and chapped as a Hoth Wampa's lips, we are ready for spring.

And where have I been? The blog has been quiet I know. Resting I suppose. Surviving really. Knitting here and there. There's something about a Zhivagoesque winter that can really kick the crap out of one's spirit, you know? Locals entreat me, the newcomer, to embrace winter, tell me that I'll love it if I take up skating, that I won't be able to get enough snow if I start skiing, and I nod politely and wonder how much Koolaid they've been drinking. I did, gamely, buy a special face protector and woollen long johns and start jogging again. And I didn't get frostbite, so there's something for the pros column of my balance sheet.

But bring on the spring. Let's see a little green. I'm ready to regroup and recharge.

I'm heading out for a delightfully long-underwear-free jog. It's 10 unbelievably positive degrees. The sun is shining. A little David Sedaris on the ear buds will get me in the right frame of mind. Bitterly optimistic? Optimistically bitter?