AND THEN SPRING CAME BACK AND STAYED A WHILE

YONGE ST., NOVEMBER 22: No snow. No winter coats. No hats. No way!

A couple of weeks ago, the weather prophets examined the skies and the corn husks and the direction in which the hair grows on the topmost portion of an albino calf's skull and proclaimed: "This is going to be one dirty mother of a winter." And we were afraid. We were very afraid. Because we all remember that time, that one really bad time, when it snowed so hard Mayor Mel Lastman called in the army and everyone out west laughed their arses off at us.  
Yet since that proclamation, we've been basking in temperatures so Florida-esque it is tempting to say, "Those weather guys are nuts." Except we would never say that. Because if we did, we would be jinxing ourselves and within hours it would be snowing so hard our throats would clog up with the stuff before we could even croak, "I was kidding!" We know this. We're Canadian; every one of us has at least one family member who died in exactly this way. 
So let's just enjoy the balmy weather while it lasts, because it won't be here lo . . . wow. Too late.