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Montreal Gazette

Drimonis: There's nothing like Montreal in the spring

Montreal's great spring thaw is glorious. I love this city around the clock, and there's no denying summer is when Montreal outdoes itself in sexy razzle-dazzle. But I most love being here for the first signs of spring. I suspect this thrill may be unique to winter cities. Those places that get buried under snow, grey skies and frigid weather for what always feels a little too long. I have lived in spots where seasons seem almost interchangeable. Those folks enjoy spring, too — but not like this. One needs the brutality and symbolic death of winter to be reborn every spring. In Montreal, when April and May come along, it seems we collectively lose our minds a little. We spill out onto balconies and sidewalks to soak up the sun. We have brunch outside still in our coats. Some of us start wearing shorts even before all the snow is melted. I love when those first buds appear on trees, and the hard earth is replaced with that first soft carpet of grass. When the first crocuses, daffodils, tulips and dandelions appear in bright bursts of colour. By the time the magnolia trees start blossoming, I'm practically giddy. I walk around in a happy trance, snapping pictures and close-ups of those thick velvety pink and white petals like I'm Ansel Adams on assignment. I can't get enough of it all. No one describes the city's spring thaw — the primal and sexual awakening — like Montreal's favourite poet. 'In Montreal spring is like an autopsy,' writes Leonard Cohen in Beautiful Losers. 'Everyone wants to see the inside of the frozen mammoth. Girls rip off their sleeves and the flesh is sweet and white, like wood under green bark. From the streets a sexual manifesto rises like an inflating tire, 'the winter has not killed us again!'' Cohen wrote this on the Greek island of Hydra — where he ran away to escape the harshness of Canadian winters. Spring is short in Montreal. It barely lasts a few weeks. Then it's full-blown summer with the heat and humidity that comes along with it. But for those few glorious weeks, everything bursts back to life. The earth smells differently. White trilliums bloom in Angrignon Park and ferns delicately unfurl. The Lachine Canal fills with happy people sunbathing, biking, in-line skating, walking tiny dogs or pushing strollers with chubby babies. Hammocks come out of storage, swaying in the warm wind. Everyone looks deliriously happy to be alive. It's all so quick, spontaneous and ephemeral, making it all the more precious. Neighbourhood terrasses materialize overnight. Suddenly we see neighbours and friends we haven't seen in months. Picnic blankets, bottles of wine and guitars appear like magic in parks. Grills are lit and the unmistakable aroma of charcoal fills the air. People line up for the first ice cream cone of the season. We gather under an open sky to once again celebrate birthdays, weekends or just the joy of living in a city with so many green spaces. There's a childish eagerness to it all. Only people who experience all four seasons get to be giddy like this. People with around-the-year warm weather eventually take it for granted. It's human nature not to value what you don't have to work for. And we have to work for this joy. Every single winter. 'For the next six months, this city shines,' my friend told me as we walked the trails on a beautiful spring day. He was furiously recording chirping birds on his phone app, trying to determine the various species. Six months might be wishful thinking, but like I said, people are intense this time of year. So revel in it. Soak up spring. Love it like only a Montrealer can.