Back home in Perth this week it’s been 38 to 39 degrees Celcius all week.  I suppose my garden is dead by now.  In Toronto over the weekend there was snow, so we got off the Porter shuttle bus on Front Street and stepped into about a foot of snow.  I spent the commute to and from work today with muffled shrieks of delight while jumping up and down in the snow banks, almost slipping over in slush, and being captivated by how varied the texture was underfoot.  I’m sure the novelty will wear off by next week but for now I’m still quite excited.

Snow city.
Snow city.

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