Recalibration

I have managed to land back in my Stratford life on the perfect day. The frogs on the creek are singing their little hearts out with desperate love songs. I’ve spent far too much time this morning putting things away and obsessively restoring order in my house. I’m having lunch outside. The sun is hot. The world is green. So green it glows. It is a lovely surprise to remember that there is so much grass here. I’m marvelling at how much of an effect it creates. I think the peridot green of Ontario spring can affect the psyche in a powerful way. It is the colour of rebirth, vitality, and health. Either that or it is our gift for enduring a long, cold and colourless winter.

Stratford is dressing in blossom colours. She has quite a wardrobe: the bright lilac of the redbuds; the blushing pink of the magnolias; the burgundy red of a tree across the street; the abundant pink and blue lavender of the lilacs; the brick red of the Japanese maple, and, for contrast, a surprising hit of acid green foliage.

It reminds me of the day I became a mother. Victoria was born on May 15. It was a grey spring day when I went into the hospital, and when I came out everything had burst into bloom. It was thrilling to bring my tiny bundle home as the world rejoiced that spring had come. I remember feeling that the world itself had changed overnight, though of course it was I who had changed.