Spring has sprung in Toronto.

From Food

…And I am testing out a new photographic candidate, which has a food setting. I fully intend on taking this little baby with me outdoors today, so I can really figure out some of those settings. Last night’s photographing of an evening Good Friday parade didn’t go so well (the aperture remained open for a good long time, but all I got were trippy Fear and Loathing in East York shots of dancing lights), but I’ll figure it out.

I say it all the time, but since having moved to Toronto my sense of seasonality and the passage of time has greatly increased. This year I could feel my skin yearning for spring and warmth and an end to the miserable not-quite-winter we had been having. I wanted desperately for the light to change, and the smells, and the quality of the produce. I wanted the rituals of spring: good wine and an editorial review of my closet and academic insanity.

It also helps that I spend more time with children than I ever used to. I have spent four years in this country, the same length of time I spent in college. In June I’ll have spent four years in the workshop, where in many ways my real post-grad education happened. When I tell people this, they always startle a little bit, like they can’t quite believe it.

“I’m almost as tall as you, now,” said my ten-year-old chum on the way home, last night.

“Yes,” I agreed. “Soon you’ll be much taller than I am.”

Oddly, I found I couldn’t wait.

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