The word of the day is “hunkering.” As in, down. That’s all a Canadian can do in the snow and pale grey light of January – hunker in the lair and try to keep sane. I think of my neighbours from Sri Lanka and India, from Jamaica, lands of vibrant colour, rich in smell and community, people living their lives in noisy abandon outside, under the sun. Here the world is white and grey, outside is bitter and unwelcoming, people huddle in their black parkas with faces swathed in scarves and vanish as quickly as possible. No colour, no smell, no sound – no faces, even. If it’s hard for us, Canada in winter must be a frozen hell to those from warm places.
Summer continues, bewildered but happy Torontonians out in tank tops, shorts, flipflops. On October 1 Lynn and I swam in