November 16, 2022

November snowfalls are like April ones in that they come every year and yet we’re always surprised to see them. This one was particularly unexpected. And a little jarring, to be honest. It wasn’t so much a practical unpreparedness –– my family is always buying winter boots in a snow storm –– but an emotional one. As I trudged through the slushy sidewalks of Kensington Market this morning, I felt like I’d time traveled through Autumn, past the festive season and the New Year, and landed bang on some ordinary weekday in February. My whole journey from home to market and back felt so viscerally mid-winter that if not for the sight of bright pink roses peeking through the snow in a neighbour’s garden, I may well have believed that it was. Thank heavens for pops of pink! Thank heavens for the last remaining autumnal leaves, tiny crimson catchalls for the snow. All signs that it is indeed mid-November. A month to expect the unexpected. Like wierd weather and time travel. Or is that just life?


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