Peonies from the gardenAdjusting to the seasons here in Canada is not unlike adjusting to the birth of our new baby--sometimes it's simply pleasant, others it's darn right difficult. Coming from a place that had only one meteorological state of being--70 degrees and sunny--means that any season experienced here is more than we are used to. Throw in a super long, white and frigid winter, a delayed, humid and rainy spring and a super late summer (that of which from what I understand does not begin until July) and you throw us into a virtual seasonal tailspin.
We survived the heaps of snow, but I am not promising that we'll make it through the blooms of spring. Dean and I slather our peeling and chaffed noses in moisturizing cream nightly--seasonal allergies are driving us battier than our two and a half year old throwing himself on the ground in a fit of simultaneous devastation and rage for the fiftieth time of the hour. Trust me, I am talking real batty.
The question is, we survived winter with one child . . . will we survive the remainder of spring with two? While both spring and a new baby bring with them sweet and delicate little treats for the senses to indulge, it's the uncontrollable variables--like the pollen count and a toddler named big brother--that lead me to doubt my, our, ability to cope sanely.
What will the flowers of spring look like come summertime? Probably a lot like Dean and I will--withered, frail and a wee crispy around the edges. But, only time will tell. Only time will tell.
We survived the heaps of snow, but I am not promising that we'll make it through the blooms of spring. Dean and I slather our peeling and chaffed noses in moisturizing cream nightly--seasonal allergies are driving us battier than our two and a half year old throwing himself on the ground in a fit of simultaneous devastation and rage for the fiftieth time of the hour. Trust me, I am talking real batty.
The question is, we survived winter with one child . . . will we survive the remainder of spring with two? While both spring and a new baby bring with them sweet and delicate little treats for the senses to indulge, it's the uncontrollable variables--like the pollen count and a toddler named big brother--that lead me to doubt my, our, ability to cope sanely.
What will the flowers of spring look like come summertime? Probably a lot like Dean and I will--withered, frail and a wee crispy around the edges. But, only time will tell. Only time will tell.
