It’s cold. November was a dream, but now here’s the real thing: a few snowflakes yesterday, and today, frost in bristly patches on the ground. You can feel the city, literally, turning inward, huddling, hunkering – it’s here, will be here for months, all we can do is put our heads down and get through. I made sure my bird feeder was filled, and dug the next level of warmth in coats, boots and gloves out of storage. I have my own cold, too; December has settled, coughing, in my chest.
Summer continues, bewildered but happy Torontonians out in tank tops, shorts, flipflops. On October 1 Lynn and I swam in