No. Wait. I’m a displaced Southern Girl. I’m living in the Great White North, baby!
Why? Why, you ask?
We had the weenie of winters in my neck of Canadaland. Very little snow. So little, that we were officially experiencing drought conditions. Wasn’t all that cold either.
After the weenie winter, we had an early spring. A spring with unusually high temps and little rain. Well, until last week. We might have put a dint in those drought conditions then, but we also had glorious sunshine and temps from the high 50s to 79. I was basking. Basking, I tell you.
So when Mr. G, honey asked where I would like to go for Mother’s Day I said, “I’d just like you to grill me a piece of healthy fish an Italian sausage in the backyard and make a fruit salad bake a chocolate cake.
I had a vision. A little vision of moi strolling through the yard in a flow-y dress and flip-flops, wearing sunblock and my Spearmint & Lime lip balm, while I checked the progress of gardens planted by my own loving hands.
Three days before M-Day, we had 90 km winds and rain, which turned to snow flurries as the temperature plummeted into the basement. It was 36 Faren yesterday morning. Mr. G, honey — being the sweetheart he is — prepped and fired up our ancient charcoal grill while bundled in his winter coat. We moved my little M-Day fantasy inside, and I settled in with a glass of something good and contemplated having a fire.
We gritted our teeth and turned on the furnace. Ccc-cold.
The day ended with me hustling out to place pots over precious plants to protect (wow, that’s a lot of p’s) them from Mama Weather’s early morning frosty heart.
I consoled myself with the to-die-for macaroons the kidlet surprised me with. She knows what mama likes.
I’m back to making my morning fashion selection from two piles. No, I haven’t replaced the water-ruined dresser yet.
Pile A — sweats, hoodies, socks.
Pile B — yoga pants, tees, flip-flops.
Hello, Northern Girl Monday!