Up here in Northern Ontario, spring is doing its usual flip-flop. A few days ago it was a balmy 7 Celsius and I took my youngest outside to play in just sweaters, which was rather nice after a winter of being bundled up in parkas and covering bare skin wherever possible. It can can get to -30 Celsius here with the windchill dropping much lower in the heart of winter. But as the snow and ice melts, it slowly reveals the front of our property and makes me eager to see what, if anything, of my container perennials survived being frozen inside a snowbank. It suspect it won’t be the deep cold of winter that will do them in, but the inability to drain the melting ice away and the poor roots will just drown. But we shall see.
We had a heavy rain storm the other day that helped to recede our large snowbanks down by two-thirds. The high pile stood nearly to the lowest branch of the tree and I had worried for the health of the tree, but it seems to tolerate having the snow ploughed up against it just fine.
Beneath the snow and thin bottom layers of ice small treasures can be found. The water carves paths just like it does on the grander scale of canyons and river valleys. It’s endlessly fascinating to watch the water wend its way down the sidewalk of our hilly street. But soon the snow and ice are gone and the heat of summer will set in before we know it. I am a mild weather gal, preferring the temperate climate of my native West Coast of Canada. But here I’ve been transplanted and though I definitely had a large bout of transplant shock, I like to think that I am now thriving, even if it took quite a bit to get to this place of contentment.
In our master bedroom of our 3 bedroom apartment, I have a little secretary desk that I write at. It is often messy and I struggle to keep it tidy. But I like having messages of encouragement in sight, a reminder that all is possible if you simply get to work and try.
My writing lately has been a deep process of figuring out what my limits are. This isn’t to say that I can’t accomplish things- I can. But at the end of the day no progress is worth it if the next day I am unable to function. Finding that delicate balance has been a large part of my journey. So here’s to the snow melting and the warmth of spring adding energy back into my work, and also to the tiny steps of progress that move us forward.
For more about this week’s writing, check out my latest YouTube video.