It’s one of the more emotionally charged seasons. The advent of spring means rebirth, renewal, the promise of longer days and warmer temperatures–but the celebration is accompanied by a sombre fact. In order for this regeneration to happen, something else must have had to die.

Was Spring, written and directed by Daniel MacIvor, brings together three women and three generations, all with a personal connection to the season. Kit (Jessica Moss), in her twenties, is enamoured with a boy, music, and the idea of love; Kath (Caroline Gillis), in her fifties, resents anyone less angry than she is; and Kitty (Clare Coulter), in her eighties, is an isolated, aging woman, an island within her apartment complex, contemplating the life she knows is drawing to a close.

At Kitty’s request, the three women meet on the small stage of the Tarragon Studio Theatre, prepared to present their stories to the audience. Surrounded by Kimberly Purtell’s lighting and mirrored set, they’re plunged into a space of literal self-reflection, facing delightful and devastating memories, coming to terms with how each one has shaped who they are and who they will be.

MacIvor, yet again, taps into his uncanny ability to write layered female parts, full and flawed. Kit, Kath, and Kitty are at each other’s throats immediately, in the way that women who think they know better than each other will be. The ceaseless antagonism (“kat” fights?) eventually gets tired–luckily, MacIvor redeems himself with tender moments between Kitty and Kit, reminding the old lady of a hopefulness she once had, and between the three women and their candy wrappers. That simple, integral scene is also where MacIvor shows his strength as a writer and director, clarifying the relationship between the women by saying nothing at all. As they say, Daniel’s in the details.

Unfortunately, it takes a little too long for this moment to come around, and to keep their relationship a secret MacIvor makes the early speeches and interactions between the women unnecessarily convoluted. Fortunately, his writing is as beautifully sad as ever, and, with Coulter holding the fort for the introduction, completely captivating. For MacIvor, it’s not exactly wisdom that comes with age, but spry and fiery wit that would astound anyone stopping to take a good listen. Even when she’s joined onstage, Coulter commands the action, but Gillis puts up a strong fight as the hard-hearted Kath, who doesn’t hide her softer sadness forever. Kit, on the other hand, only has her innocence and faith to combat the others, which she clings to with slightly annoying conviction.

But in hearing MacIvor’s words spoken by these three commendable women, one is moved from darkness to light, from birth to death, and back again, just like the seasons. We just wish this Spring was a bit less foggy.

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Carly Maga is an arts writer for Toronto Standard. Follow her on Twitter: @RadioMaga. 

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