The weather has begun to turn. The icy northern wind blew yesterday, bringing the first flakes of snow and lowering the temperature ten degrees in one day. Summer is dead; the ground will harden; ice will crack pipes and line sidewalks; there will be no more miniskirts. Homeless people will begin to wear shoes. Casual smokers will quit rather than quake in doorside no-man's-land. A fine day will be as unpalatable outdoors as a heavy downpour, commuters bustling and bobbing in the refrigerated air, and lingering for another sip at Tim Horton's. Clumps of dirty ice will trail into buildings, pools will form by elevators, failed umbrellas will protude wetly from trashcans. Geese will honk overhead, squirrels will form trails in the snow, dogs will emerge happily from drifts as pontooned clouds. Snow will pyramid perilously against buildings and the opening of every door brings with it the intrusion of chill nature on warm community, for winter is here in Toronto.
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