"And the Spring arose on the garden fair,
Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;
And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breast
Rose from the dreams of its wintry rest." ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley
Springtime in Saskatchewan. You never know what you're going to get. Yesterday, as I was photographing this pavlova, the windows were open, furnace was off, sandals were on - showing off my freshly pedicured toes, and the cats were roaming the perimeter of the place, no doubt scouting for any animal trespassers. And today it's a blustery affair, with dark brooding skies and a mood to go with it. Furnace is back on. As is the winter uniform of leggings, slippers and sweater. A stark contrast to the day that came before it. A season still trying to figure itself out. Which I get. I think at the core that's all we are trying to do - figure ourselves out. Over the weekend I watched the HBO series Olive Kitteridge. If you get a chance, I highly encourage you to do so, too. It's lovely to look at - the opening credits alone made me crave a doughnut and the woods, though not necessarily at the same time. It's a story of a family and a small town, of lasting love and the turbulence of life over the span of 25 years. I love movies and books where the characters age and every five or ten years you check in with them to see how they're doing and how they've changed and mistakes they've made. Love it. I won't give anything away, but this series packs an emotional whammy. The last hour alone made me weep like a baby because it took Olive most of her lifetime to figure herself out. And it wasn't too late. It's never too late.
