A teeny weeny poem of mine is hanging from a tree and fluttering in the summer breeze at the Waterford Township Public Library at Michigan! And it will be there all of this month. It is titled When it Snows in Spring.
I am also back to having fun putting up short verses on Instagram. It was meant to be a simple daily exercise to make sure I didn't go to bed without having written a few lines at least; it has quickly become the only exercise I am aiming to complete in any given day. And this is how, yet again, something I concocted to make myself happy has become something that sends me on an occasional guilt-trip.
Meanwhile, in Toronto, winter has more or less disappeared but it keeps getting cold every so often as if winter wants to remind us that she hasn't entirely left and is lurking around the corner. Winter is never truly gone. She is going to get you when you are not watching.
Little D has been around for a little longer than 11 months. Soon we'll be measuring him in years, not months. He'll become a toddler and not be an infant anymore. Whenever their children cross age milestones, people say time flew by very quickly. All I can say is that this has been a very long year that gave the illusion of passing by swiftly. Time, up to his usual tricks.