Spring Forward

It's officially spring. Or so they say. Frankly, I'm not convinced, given that it's -8 C outside at the moment, with a windchill that makes it feel like -16 C. It's been a long, cold, snowy winter here in Toronto that started in November, and never let up. Even with a vacation to the Dominican Republic over the Christmas break that allowed us to avoid the big ice storm, I've found it difficult to get through this endless cold. I've struggled with bouts of depression for the first time since I was a moody teenager, and am self-aware enough to know that the chill has gone hand in hand with the hot flashes of middle age to make me an alternating hot and cold mess.

But this week, the tables are turning. I can feel it in my bones. The move to Daylight Saving Times in early March has made the sun stay out just a little longer at night, and we seem to be enjoying bright days. I'm even prepared to ignore the bitter cold that accompanies them because at least it's sunny out and the ground is relatively dry.

Yesterday, I made the decision to temporarily pull the plug on social media; more specifically, I am deactivating my Facebook account for spring as my own rite of renewal. Anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that I spend too much time there; I am a social creature, I love trivia, snarky memes, and quirky articles, and could probably spend the rest of my life poking around friends' pages looking at all their links and updates, commenting on and liking what they've chosen to share. The entertainment and amusement factor is high for me, mostly because I am surrounded by witty, intelligent, and charming friends. However, I've recognized in the last few weeks that I need to recharge the energy that winter and menopause have stripped away. I have a dog itching to get back to long, daily walks, and a body with two healed shoulders that is screaming for a higher level of physical activity. I need to rediscover yoga, continue the power walking and water jogging regimes so beneficial to my fitness and mental health, incorporate some strength and muscle training, and most importantly, pick up a racket and fall in love with tennis all over again.

                                     The song of the cardinals are being heard every day now...


I am also looking forward to digging my hands into the muddy, snow-softened soil of my gardens. For me, the flowers and shrubs that surround the house are a meditation with nature, a purely sensual joy that the long winter kept at bay for too long. I've heard the birds chirping for the last week and a half, and I want to join in their singing and poke around the wild English garden that was once my front lawn, clipping and pruning as green replaces grey and white.

                                                The June lawn...

                                         announces the full blooms of the coneflowers and daisies of early July....

                                         and gets replaced by the rich September colours...

Finally, I have a novel I promised to deliver last August to complete the rock fiction series first published in January 2012. Last year was difficult in so many ways: the return to a world of clocks and bells after a sabbatical leave was a challenging adjustment, made worse by so much personal loss (9 deaths in less than 10 months) and a draconian, government-imposed contract that destroyed working conditions and morale in the educational community. The physical changes of menopause turned me into a giddy, hyper teenager, and all semblance of focus and direction went out the open window (I was hot much of the time). I will admit sheepishly that being in this state of unrest was fun for me at times, but perhaps less so for the poor friends and family who had to interact with me on a regular basis. I still melt at the strangest moments, but my psyche has recovered its emotional stability, and I'm ready to tackle my writing project.

Will I twitch because my fingers are no longer checking for updates and messages? Will I miss my social network of bantering goofballs and dear friends? I will certainly have moments where the cravings and longing will be great, where I will be tempted to log in and see what's going on. But I am determined to resist, to persevere, to take my greatest Capricorn asset (my stubbornness, in case you're wondering) and make it work for me. Besides, I'm not giving up all contact with the cyber world: there's still Twitter, email, and texting, which I know I'll use to keep in touch with those nearest and dearest.  More importantly, there's still Word with Friends, where my friend Romano attempts to kick my ass on a daily basis, and as his profile claims, he 'likes to chat.'

Wish me luck.