Great Expectations

It's been a snowy, icy winter and it ain't over yet. I know that elsewhere in the northern hemisphere spring is starting to make itself felt, but not here in Toronto. It's a skating rink out there. Falling is a real risk.

On the other hand, or rather foot, as a family we're getting better at dealing with slippage. We have an impressive array of winter footwear, including my new acquisitions: snow boots with retractable spikes, by a Canadian company called Pajar.

Spiked

They're great. I can't quite believe I need to own them but now that I do, I wear them with pride. Recently at a work event I spoke to the folks behind the "Rate My Treads" project at iDAPT, part of the Toronto Rehabilitation Institute, who assign one, two, or three snowflakes (or none) based on boots' performance under conditions such as wet ice or cold ice and against various slopes. I asked how my pair had fared. "We haven't tested these yet," they said, examining my soles. "Email the company and ask them to send us a sample so we can rate them." Nice idea but somehow I doubt I'll get around to it. Instead I'll go by the rating my husband accords them.

What the Dickens?

"You're skipping over the ice patches like a mountain goat," he told me with some admiration, as he picked his own way more carefully in his spikeless footwear one dark evening. I know pride cometh before the fall, so I pledge to exercise care and humility, but I also have great expectations of these being the boots that will see me through not just the rest of this winter, but perhaps the rest of the winters I will spend in Toronto.

Not that I believe in omens but I did spot this stray page lying in the gutter outside Allan Gardens, where husband and I went with our neighbourhood garden club on Sunday. The centre-piece of the gardens is a series of large connected greenhouses. Entry is free and green is everywhere, in welcome contrast to the crystalline whiteness on the other side of the glass. I retracted the spikes of my boots and for an hour pretended it was springtime.

Allan Gardens conservatory: escape from winter