Springtime, Springtime

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How do I know? My teary red eyes and itchy skin tend to be the best indication, followed by several empty boxes of tissues and an irritated runny nose. I, like many other people this time of the year, suffer from the worst allergies imaginable, allergies that are no match for the Claritins and Reactines of the world. So I spent most of this weekend bottled up in my house with hot tea and kleenex, while listening to the sounds of people young and old enjoying the wonderful weather outdoors.

One other event that confirms our successful Winter exit and ushers in the new warmer season is the annual reappearance of the Ice Cream Truck. Growing up in Ottawa we used to have what we called the ‘dickadee’, which was basically an ice cream cart that the guy, usually a teenager, would ride around the neighbourhood. During the glory days we used to swap Pogs and marbles for our favourite popsicles, even going as far as trading in Pokemon cards if the ice cream seemed worth it. The actual ice cream truck in those days was an entirely different matter, shadily painted black and shooing off any children that came in its path. I’m absolutely positive that the men driving around this truck were selling drugs, since I can’t think of any rational explanation for the behaviour. Today was the first day this year I heard the familiar tune of the ice cream truck coming around the corner, and the even more familiar sound of children begging their parents for a few dollars and eagerly chasing down the truck before it passed by their house. For some reason we also have a knife sharpening truck that comes around the same time, with the old man who runs it tapping a bell to announce his arrival, and attracting a drastically different and aged demographic than our local ice cream man.

I was in the kitchen cooking up a little something when I realized the open window that had been the source of my sneezing for the few minutes I had been in there. The sound of the pane and the window shutting attracted the attention of old Leo across the street, which enlightened me to the third confirmation of spring. Our neighbours across the street, Leo and Edith, were back in their usual warm weather positions, relaxing in lawn chairs out of their open garage. Watching people. One of the few things I find myself enjoying about winter is being liberated from their ever watchful and judgmental gaze. In the past this gaze would be limited to the outdoors, perhaps while out checking the mail or pulling up into the driveway, but I learned in the kitchen that being indoors wasn’t a guarantee of safety either, so long as it’s within their line of vision. My next door neighbour swears that he looked out his bedroom window to find Leo watching him with binoculars.

Though there’s more about spring that would suggest it being my least favourite and most uncomfortable season, I’ll take it over Toronto’s crippling, soul sucking winters any day.

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Filed under neighbourhood, spring, thoughts