Sprung is Spring

Ok, so I've come down from my hyperventilative quarter life crisis. I'm more or less back to "normal" Jackie... if such a thing even exists.

And.... I thought I'd write a little entry about spring in the north.

Now, for all you "southerners" ... I am very well aware that you've surpassed the "spring has sprung" point... and are probably frolicking around in tank-tops and shorts... flip-flops and sunglasses.

As you can imagine... that's hardly the case here, but nonetheless... spring IS in the air.

The Hondas are out... whizzing around the streets, stirring up sprays of water, slush and the occasional boulder...and I can safely say they now outnumber the ski-doos.

The snow is melting... slowly, gradually... but it IS melting. I'm wearing my rubber boots more and more these days (...to the horror of those around me. I've been told by a certain someone that my boots are the tackiest things around and must certainly be "CBC issue"... apparently my predecessor had a similar pair).

The garbage is becoming unearthed (part and parcel of the whole snow-melting thing).

The stray dogs are coming out of the woodworks.

The kids are digging out their bicycles, and playing red-rover outside my front door.

I've more or less put away my Canada Goose parka for the season...

OH and possibly the GROSSEST  part of spring having descended upon us... the housefly colony in my apartment. Ok. I'm not the world's NEATEST person, but my house, my apartment, is hardly in shambles. I don't leave old food out ... I have a dishwasher.... I don't have any West-Nile puddles hanging around...

But yet, I have my own, personal, fly-farm.

And my own, personal, fly-catcher.

That's right. My puppy doubles as a fly-catcher. I'll have to try and catch him doing this in the act... but he'll perch on the windowsill (local hangout for fly colonies) and trap one with his paw, and put it in his mouth. Not killing it right away. Just holding it there. Then he'll jump down from the windowsill, let his prey free, but then proceed to put it out of its misery.... BY SQUISHING IT.

And not with his paws... but with his BACK. He'll roll over the fly with his entire body until it cries uncle and just gives up... and then he'll chow down on the little bugger (ha-ha).

It's the most bizarre ritual of all time. But hilarious.