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Monday, April 15th, 2019. Round Lake Centre, Ontario.

In stories, metaphorical journeys often end where they begin. Dorothy and Ulysses both make it full circle and in doing so find their respective Spring.  Have we found spring? Did we find it and then lose it again ( as we certainly did physically)? My courage is unchanged, I have no new heart or brain; The question goes unanswered as we make the last day's journey.

Certainly, we have outpaced spring -- there were little white things falling from the sky as we sat and had coffee with Lorraine's dad's wife Trish in the living room in Innerkip. They both had busy days planned and at this point Rrainy and I just wanted to get home. We're not patient people for the most part; manic, restless, cranky perhaps, and most certainly impatient. Kip made oatmeal porridge and then we were on our way -- about ten minutes after 9 we pulled away from the curb and into an icy morning, with cold rain and the wind still brisk. I considered turning back south for another month, Income Tax be damned, but Rrainy and my conscience reined me back onto the north eastern path.

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Usually I'll run cross-country straight north and then west from Kip's through the middle of nowhere; across the Mennonite country and over the escarpment, skipping north of the Holland Marsh and then across the park on lonely two lane roads. In this wind and with snow on the photo radar to the North of us I chickened out and decided to pursue the way across the 401 and through Toronto even though we really hate getting stuck in that city's traffic; doubly so with a trailer.  We had been lucky with traffic as we passed through Louisville, Cincinnati, Toledo and Detroit so maybe that would continue in Toronto -- we were after rush-hour starting out and would hit Toronto just before Noon. However,  no such luck was to be had as construction season has already started in the big smoke -- they are tearing apart the highways in the west end so they can support the further extension of the faceless suburbs up to the edge of the escarpment green=belt and then jump beyond -- there seems to be no limit on the consumption of farmland used to build ugly 3 bed, 3 bath homes on tiny lots and the highways needed to access them. We are so glad we don’t live in this rat’s maze of cars, malls and super highways.  Traffic was bad from Milton all the way through Etobicoke so when we crawled past the off-ramp to Highway 400 we had little choice but to bail straight north on the 400.  And straight into a snow-squall worrying the top of the Oak Ridges Moraine at the north end of the developed city -- mercifully it was more pretty than slippery and we were through into the Holland Marsh in just a few minutes.

The delays in the city made our expected arrival time closer to 4 than to 3 even without a stop but we still had to grab gas and a little food in Barrie and push on quickly through Huntsville and into Algonquin Park. The snow in the bush and beside the highway continued to build slowly all up that route.  When Lorraine fell asleep just after Gravenhurst there was only scattered snow in the bush; When she woke up near Oxtongue Lake near kilometer 9 in the Park she was shocked, "What?", there may have been profanity, "How could you let this happen?"

 "I'm just driving, Kid. It's pretty impressive isn't it?" And the three feet of snow right to the edge of the recently plowed highway was impressive; and white.

 "Oh man. I'm really not happy about this."

 Ok, so the search for spring was possibly more than metaphorical. Could it have been only about the weather?

 "Do you want me to turn around? Or just drive past home and keep going south again?..." She thought before answering. "No, I really do want to go home. We've got a lot to do and I want to see the kids. Maybe Alex will be there to surprise us?"

"Yup. I've got a long list of things I really want to get done now." One of the spring metaphors extends along the lines of recharging batteries -- as if perhaps people are mechanical toys, two D Cells not included. Certainly, the change has been better than a rest and if the driving itself not so danged tiring and stressful with the high winds of the last 3 legs I could consider that to be part of the answer.   We listened to a CBC radio program on stoicism as we drove – interspersed with reports of the fire in Notre Dame Cathedral.   The fire there reminded me that everything ends – that ultimately people only get to experience a literal spring of their life once. The discussion of stoicism made me think again of what was truly valuable in the search – the experiences and our ability to share them with others was important. The Spring we found, the renewed relationships with friends and family.

I was still pondering the question when I pulled in front of the driveway -- the house was there. The snow much reduced in our quiet valley compared to the plateau of the park. It was time to unpack just a little, shower, make a dinner in a real full-sized kitchen, sink into the recliner and watch some big screen TV. After 43 days on the road we were home; philosophical meanderings could wait.