Spring in Ontario is magnificent... when we get it. I was only just appreciating how the snow was off the ground and I was smelling the cool damp of thaw when I looked up this weather forecast. High tomorrow of 28'C?!!? (Over 80 for you Farenheit people)
In Ontario, Spring is a lightswitch that some three-year-old kid is playing with in order to make lightning in his room. WINTER! SPRING! WINTER! SPRING! SPRING! WINTER! SPRING! SUMMER! I remember, back in 1990, when snow and 30'C temperatures were just three days apart. And, looking ahead, the high for Sunday is only 4'C.
April isn't the cruelest month. It's just insane.
The wRites of Spring poetry reading went well. Erin read selections from her almost finished book Ghost Maps (her WWII poetry) and a poem called A Sufferage to Water. The other poets who were there were impressive themselves. It was a good night on the banks of the Speed River, with a fog starting to come off the water.
Scary as it is to say, Erin's just about finished Ghost Maps, just as the grants come to give her time to finish the work. Well, there are at least two other books that she can work on in the meantime. This week, though, the manuscript goes to the publishers.