When May thinks it's July

Three rays of sun in a cross and we lose the north.

When May thinks it's July

Three rays of sun in a cross and we lose the north.

At the beginning of the month, with a mercury at 11 degrees in the sun, I still had the coat on my back and met some reckless people already in bermudas and flip flops.

In recent days, with our heat records...

The cracks of the casseau come out of their lair

The "no helmets" on their bike, the headphones shoved into your ears giving you the middle finger, cutting you off to the right as you take your turn.

Scooter enthusiasts and skaters who have fun zigzagging on the sidewalks.

The speeders who confuse our pothole streets with the Gilles-Villeneuve circuit.

The aces behind the wheel, wedged into their car with opaque windows that vibrate to the sound of metal screaming their music.

The enraged who get out of their vehicle to yell at you. The impatient who play the horn.

The fever of this summer spring

To hell with the t-shirt, we go out with a belly! We show our legs, our breast augmentation and we wear the extra long false eyelashes.

We bring out the beer, the rosé, the spritzers. Bye bye the masks and the cursed COVID!

Terraces, parks and gardens are invaded. We go out on our balconies, we talk loudly. Even mosquitoes and black flies have moved ahead of schedule so as not to miss this start to the season.

The nurserymen are doing a golden business, I have already installed my flower boxes. For a bit, we would sow our tomato plants. Let's calm down, it's only May...

Time to get drunk on the pink of the cherry trees and the crabapple trees, to breathe in the scent of the lilacs. Little blessed moments, ephemeral happiness...

Let's take advantage of this zenitude, even if the climate has gone crazy.

Let's keep a little wool anyway, we may be freezing like rats on Saint-Jean-Baptiste Day.