At Cedarvale Ravine, red-winged blackbirds are out in full force, swaying from the cattails, as are robins, prodding the slush hopefully in search of hidden worms. A few green sprouts have nosed their way up under bridges and in any other area not still two feet deep in snow. There is more sunlight, longer. So although this has been un vrais hiver canadien, and the first such for a very long time, it seems to be on the way out, if not on schedule (the spring equinox having already passed with no discernible effect) at least in conformity with the winters of my youth: to whit, the snow should melt by the May 24 weekend, when gardening begins in earnest.
Like the no white shoes after Labour Day rule of that same distant childhood, the no gardening until Victoria Day ban seems to have eased. Whether this is the result of global warming or the general laxity of modern civilization remains to be seen.
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