The Polar Vortex has arrived. It’s minus 25 outside. Exposed flesh will freeze in 10 minutes. After last night’s high winds, it’s eerily still. No rabbit tracks in the fresh-fallen snow. Every few minutes, the picture window frames in the kitchen expand or contract with a sigh. The brick walls are cracking like Bristol board. Frostquakes, they call that phenomena. More like some unseen hand pitching rocks against the side of the house, a giant foot stomping on the roof. It’s eerily quiet, too, although the traffic on Leslie street continues as normal, bumper to bumper. I’m bundling up in layers, getting ready for work. My lunch is packed – lots of healthy snacks. Some new tubs of machine-packaged tea and coffee (they’ve installed…

+Read more