I spotted a sign of things to come this morning.

I dug out my mittens for the first time in months and opted for the wool beanie instead of the sweat-stained Nike hat. My run took me uphill, along Willow Street to King Edward Ave. The steely autumn air cleansed my lungs, like a splash of cold water to the face. My breath was steam.

Wet leaves painted the sidewalks. I preferred running in the middle of the road for some reason. The sound of buzz saws melted together with singing sparrows and crying crows while the sun thawed winters delicate attempt to creep in.

Up the slight hill, my legs barreled past the Stop sign, at which point I usually comply, and instead I kept running around the corner of King Ed for a block. Then a sharp left down Heather Street for a peak of the view that never gets old: the summits of Cypress, Grouse and Seymour.

From my vantage point, I was looking at Grouse head-on. And that's when the peep show started.

Teasing me with traces of its winter lace, the mountain's delicate dusting of powdered sugar glowed in the morning sun. A smile gradually spread across my face. My stuffy nose began to run and I was glad I had worn my mittens.