It must be spring

It must be spring, because I've had my traditional spring cold all week. I get this cold every single year. I sneeze all day, my nose becomes a red, raw carbuncle, my ears are so blocked I can barely hear the conversation next to me, and I'm knocked over by fatigue. It's awful. All I want to do is drink lemon and ginger and watch Frasier on a constant loop, but instead I get up, go to work, and pass along my germs to the very same people who passed them to me in the first place.

For me one of the worst parts about these knock 'em sock 'em colds is that I can't taste anything. I usually find food to be a real comfort when I'm sick, so being unable to savour it is just a bummer. I may as well be drinking water and eating dry, unbuttered toast for all the enjoyment it brings me. So there's absolutely been no point in eating this lovely peach and blueberry pie I made earlier in the week. It would have been completely wasted on me.

This pie is an old family favourite from a classic Ontario Mennonite cookbook, and my mum's been making it for years. I'm not sure if it was my mum or my sister who first added the blueberries, but they're a nice colourful complement. Of course, these aren't Ontario wild blueberries (they're from Chile and they're pretty bland) and these aren't ripe August Ontario peaches (they're - gasp - canned!!). But this pie is still a decent early taste of summer, with the promise of much better pies to come.

Luckily today was the first day I woke up feeling vaguely human. Now that I can smell (and taste!) again, excuse me while I go cut myself a piece of pie.