This is my great uncle John, photographed at 16, in 1916 Nova Scotia. I'm not entirely sure about the central heating situation in his home at the time, but I suspect there wasn't any. Looking more closely at the photograph, you can see that he's wearing a handknit vest or sweater in plain knitting. I met a woman today, who moved here from Florida to pursue an artists life, completing the picture by moving into a "real" artists loft with drafty windows, hard metal radiators and crumbling brick walls. Coming from Montreal, I don't think much about Toronto winters. In fact, I don't think any Canadian thinks much about Toronto winters. They aren't much more than a couple of weeks of iced up puddles, and some brisk walks to buy milk at the corner. But this woman from Florida is really cold. She said the transition from heated humidity has been a shock to her system, that trading an outdoor by the sea life for a brutish solitary existence in a loft reclaimed from Toronto's decrepit manufacturing factory stock is too much. I look at this picture of my uncle John and I think that you have to dress for it, accept winter as a contemplative time, put on your wool socks to go to bed, wear long-johns where necessary, and take comfort in hand knits. The trick is preventative... put the socks (sweater, wristies, scarf) on before you get cold. And don't think about it.