Always about this time of year, north of the 49th parallel, in late October and early November, the first snowfall paints the landscape an innocent white. The temperature is cool enough to preserve the tender blemish. But the import of the change is powerful. We heat ourselves now.

The weather forecast for the next week is mercurial but uniformly above freezing.  My Inbox this morning included an email from a Florida realtor, a list of properties available on Longboat Key for the season, averaging US$10,000 per month. We also received a note from our former Bostonian neighbour on Key Largo, advising us of the availability of the unit rented last year by a Canadian couple from Windsor, Ontario.  It surprises me the Canadians are not returning because they had occupied that unit for a number of years and they seemed conjoined socially with the community far more than we were.  Who knows what the reason for the change may be; but I predict there will be a growing number of Canadians who prefer staying at home or going elsewhere. Florida in particular and the United States of America in general has lost much of its caché as a result of evolving demographics and global political views.

For our part we’re switching our 6-month nomadic trek to a less transient (though not less expensive) flavour, one which embraces travel as strictly entertainment, less as mere removal from the scene.

The snowflakes continue to drop from the heavens.  There are icy frozen clumps of snow on the balcony railings. Nothing has as yet disturbed the thickening layers of wet snow accumulating about the building and on the mottled fields beyond.

Our two planned appointments today fizzled, one from the outset for lack of product, the second defeated by the familiar reference to a software issue to be investigated further.  We therefore lapsed to the fallback proposal to shop for groceries. Our more poignant events will have to wait as people manage their current obligations. It frustrates me because I’m unaccustomed to endure delay when it comes to confrontation of any character or content. But even a casual reflection reveals the lack of immediacy for both. The natural rotation of affairs will therefore govern our present needs; and I will have to learn to suffer my impatience.