Waxing and wanting

I keep falling in and out of love. Now, before one of you sharpens your pencil and decides to write a letter to the Editor with the hope of telling the readership I should go to confession or I should chant and get in touch with my metaphysical side or chant a bit more whilst taking mega doses of herbal supplements, I’m talking about my waxing and waning love affair with the County.

I know. It’s hard to believe that the Pollyanna cheerleader of all things “County” might have doubts about her love of “the beautiful island adventure” land. There have been times when I just can’t bear another moment here in this rural, smallishtown atmosphere of our geographically isolated municipality. There have been times when living in a community where everyone knows someone who knows someone’s business, and even when the media doesn’t name names in events and incident reporting, we can easily find out who did what, with which and to whom, just doesn’t work for me. Y’all know what I mean. Sometimes I just haven’t loved living here and for the last month or so I’ve written more than a few “Dear County” letters in my mind and my little black book. More than once I’ve found myself scanning the real estate listings for Toronto condominiums. You know, just to see what’s out there. Honestly, the anonymity of living in a big city became very tempting.

Heck, in the early moments of 2012 I decided to chalk my love loss up to a bit of Seasonal Affective Disorder. Thank you WebMD for helping me with that diagnosis. By February, I’d had too many months of winter hours. Too many months of too many layers of clothing. Wearing socks and shoes. Looking out the back window and seeing a layer of snow and ice on the pool.Too many months of a front hall full of three types of outerwear to cover me during three types of winter in the County. There had been too many months reading about friends’ adventures in sunny climes and too many months of “fresh” produce that spent more hours in transit than it spent in the soil, on the vine or in the ground. And maybe, too many trips to the City to get a cultural fix while the County sleeps and rests up for its finest season.

And, then, as if by magic, it happened. One day the sun didn’t set at five minutes after four in the afternoon. The shovels and bags of ice-melt looked ridiculously out-of-place on the front porch and the winter tires began to make funny noises about the pavement being too hot and too clear. Restaurants took the comfort food off their menus and added extended hours with a side of salad plates. Hot chocolate was replaced with iced coffee and rhubarb came and went, little green boxes of deep red strawberries frequented my meals and fresh “cords” of bright green asparagus made friends with the BBQ. Patios opened, tow planes hummed, the sun shone, the humidex soared and flyers flew announcing the “events”: strawberry socials, farmers’ markets, seedling sales, antique shows, art shows, yard sales, extended hours and concerts. Cyclists and skateboarders replaced the hazardous snow and ice on our sidewalks. Muffin tops abound. Flip flops flourish.

I’m waxing again. Ya, that too!

theresa@wellingtontimes.ca