What season is it?

It's been difficult to tell these past few days. After we spent the early part of last week in shorts and t-shirts, Mother Nature decided we had used up our allotment of good weather, and promptly brought back some reminders of winter so that we wouldn't get too cocky.

Note to Ma Nature: you've made your point. You're the big meteorological kahuna. We get it. Now can you please turn the heat on again?

As I tap this out on my Palm (will sync it in the morning...it's too cold for me to find my slippers and go downstairs to turn on the router), my window is filled with a Norman Rockwell-esque scene of lovely, softly-lit architecture masked by blowing snow and dancing tree limbs.

Problem is, I'm not in much of a mood for Rockwell. I want to go biking with the kids and not worry about one of them coming home with fewer fingers than when we left. I want to not have to haul the winter gear back out and wonder where my left boot went. I want to stop shovelling my walk because it's late April!

If this keeps up, I'll be taking the car to work in the morning. I know, heresy.

There, I feel better. I guess I've been away from snowy Montreal for too long. I've succumbed to the Southwestern Ontario malaise known as weatheritis. Woe is me.