It's a love-hate thing

This weekend, it felt like spring. The sun was out and you could feel the heat going through your skin, warming your bones.

That's what I love about March; the promise of spring and warmer days ahead. What I hate about March is the tease.

“Hey there, spring is almost here. The crocuses are peaking their heads out, the robins are back from their winter vacation and singing in the trees, the sun is getting stronger but just so you don't forget about me, tomorrow is going to be cold. With flurries.”

I love your beauty, March, but not your flightiness.

Have you Seen Birds? (Title taken from a fabulous kid's book)

We saw Robins yesterday.

Not just one, but a handful flying, playing, singing and chasing each other through the trees and in the puddles.

And while I am happy to see and hear these beautiful birds, I worry. The Robin, and the red-winged blackbird, are signs of spring.

And while I would love for spring to come, I am worried that winter will offer it's final blast and I – and the Robins – won't like it.

Summer is Here

Officially summer doesn’t arrive until June 21 but unofficially it’s here.

I am finally warm. I can go outside and feel the heat of the sun seeping through my skin and right into my bones. I feel completely relaxed, flittering from one activity to another – going high on the swings, flipping over on the monkey bars, watching my son play in his new mini pool, going for a walk and throwing stones in the lake.

We are eating watermelon and spraying bugs with the hose. We are planting our vegetable garden and hanging clothes on the line. We are watching robins build nests and orioles and hummingbirds emptying our feeders.

I am counting down the days until summer driving season and weekends full of fun plans.

Welcome warm weather.

Sign Of Spring

Spring is here.

This was proven to me yesterday not by the bulbs popping out of the garden or the return of the robin, red-winged blackbird and Canada geese, but by the man towing his boat northbound.

Ah spring.

Talking About Poop

Everyone poops you know.

That is according to my two-and-a-half-year-old niece, who is quite interested in the subject of pooping.

My niece told me her mommy poops and Paula, her daycare provider, poops. She asked me if her little cousin poops and I told her, yes, our son does indeed poop.

I also told her I saw a robin fly by and it pooped in mid-air. Mid-air pooping. Now that’s a neat trick.

Living with Dinosaurs

My husband has this fabulous book. It’s The Golden Book of 365 Stories (A Story for Every Day of the Year) with pictures by Richard Scarry. He received the book from his grandma and grandpa at Christmas 1971.

I have been reading it daily to our son. The stories are great - short, only a few paragraphs in length with some poetry thrown in. It’s been really fun to read the stories because they seem to work. The day I read about a man who hates the rain, it’s actually raining outside.

On May 24, a read a story about Poor Mr. Robin.

In this particular story, Mr. Robin is disappointed when he sees his new babies. In his words, his youngsters are “skinny, scrawny, nosily little babies”. He didn’t show off his new additions to the neighbouring animals until he was introduced to their children and discovered equally scrawny and noisy babies.

I can relate.

For the second year, we have a robin family at the corner of our house. The baby looks like a Teradactyl.

But when I saw him peak his little head out, it didn’t matter any more. A baby is a baby.

Congratulations robins.