Sign of Spring

Have your groundhog, Wiarton.

The Birders can take their robin red-breast and trumpet his praises until they are hoarse.

For me, and hopefully many others in the fine metropolitan city of Toronto, Ontario, the first true Sign of Spring is what I witnessed today: a midget on a full-sized bike. Summer, my friends, is nigh. Rejoice!

You'll never know how much I wanted a picture of that little fellow cruising along, thumbing his nose at gravity--but it wasn't to be.

I suppose like all signs of spring: people don't believe it until they see it for themselves. I could see fifty robins on my parents lawn in Lucan, and Mom wouldn't think spring was sprung until she saw one herself (like I'd LIE about seeing a robin to fool my mother into a "false" spring)!
Same goes for the first midget on a bike--you wouldn't want me to spoil it for you by having a picture.


My father believes that the first sign of spring is when London, ON vagabonds begin washing their socks in the Thames River.

You be the judge.