**Disclaimer** This post was meant to be out in early June – funny how springing forward brings me to the beginning of August
Lately, I’ve been pondering the flexibility of eatin’ in season – does the far-reaching California or Florida avocado really line up with the gospel of the widely admired Michael Pollan? The temporal nature of vegetables, fruits and relationships all seem to be trumping any thoughts of summer shenanigans. With a thoughtless neighbour dismembering my rhubarb plant and my hometown of Thunder Bay pounded with snowstorm after snowstorm, I have resorted to farmer’s markets and the local grocery store for my rhubarb fix. This year’s spring with its irksome constitution and wily ways has me feeling a bit discombobulated, a feeling I can’t seem to shake even now in August. Every which way I turn (Toronto, Montreal, NYC, Muskokas) I managed to get soaked, nearly blown away on the streets or alternatively frozen to the bone in some instances. Spring has a funny way of reminding us that even if for only a moment, everything will change.