It promised to be spring the day we arrived back in Toronto. The sun was out, it hit 70°, people were in shorts, patios were shaking off their winter dust, and we had confidently shed our coats back in Florida. After all, it was April, what could go wrong?
Well… in true Ontario fashion, everything.
Within days, the temperature plunged back to freezing and we were greeted by the classic “must‑have snow in April” snowfall. Any hope of pear blossoms or cheerful daffodils was quickly erased under a fresh layer of white, powdery reality. The winds were sharp enough to remind us exactly where we live. And yet, from what we’ve heard, we actually missed an especially snowy, bitter winter, so perhaps this was Ontario being gentle.
Now, as the days stretch a little longer, life is slowly returning to what we expect from early spring. The trees are beginning to swell with new buds, each one inching closer to unfurling those incredible, fresh spring‑green leaves. The pear blossoms will return, and with them that unmistakable feeling that spring has finally, finally arrived.
Soon enough, the cold snap will be nothing more than a brief interruption in the story of spring. For now, I’m choosing to enjoy these small daily changes. After all, that’s part of the charm of living here. Spring may take its time, but when it finally arrives, it feels all the better.
And then comes one of my favorite rituals of the season, wandering through the garden centers, dreaming up this year’s garden. Rows of seedlings, bursts of color, endless textures, and the promise of what each little plant could become. I start imagining where everything will go. The shade‑lovers tucked under the trees, the sun‑worshippers lining the warmest corners of the yard, and the bold pops of color that will carry the garden from spring into late summer. It’s a fresh canvas every year, and the planning is half the joy.
