Spring mold

I think I may be adapting to the East coast spring.

It's our third and I am less depressed than I have been in previous years when I longed for the heat and sunshine of an Ontario spring. I'm not saying the rain and gloom that has landed here over the past few days has had no effect, but I am less suicidal than our first year here.

That particular May saw rain fall every day for a month and, jokes about Noah aside, there was little to laugh about. I dreamed of the Tulip Festival that I was missing, meeting with friends at outdoor patios, even the lineups at the gardening centres on the long weekend.

Instead I saw mildew creep onto the siding of our house, bed linens felt permanently soggy, and bathroom towel never seemed to dry. The upside was that my skin looked great.

Although the long weekend has arrived and it's too early to plant and I'm still wearing warm socks and a pullover, it's okay. I know that once summer hits (expected date of arrival is July 2, narrowly missing Canada Day) we will have the most glorious weather that will last until November.

There is no time better than a Maritime summer day when the sun is out, the breezes are blowing and black fly season is over. Unless, of course, it's a warm day in October when the fall colours are in full riot and we're driving along the Cabot Trail overlooking the cliffs that drop to the ocean.

I know it's coming; I can wait.

Colleen