getting better

Head still clearing; each day, I'm feeling better. The weather has changed completely, this past week. Right now, at 9 p.m., I'm wearing a sweatshirt and my battered sheepskin slippers. My WINTER slippers. This afternoon I put on socks for the first time in months. Yes, a chill in the air. But it's temporary; summer will come back, and vanish, and come back; the tease will continue on and off for a bit, until, finally, she breathes her last and the cold comes in for good. For months, anyway. Then my beautiful garden will shrivel and hide till next year.

It must be strange to live in a place like Florida, without real seasons except not so hot, hot and really hot. I like the cycle. But no one is as enthusiastic about the seasons as my daughter, who never complains about the rain (well, almost never) or snow, in fact, relishes whatever nature dishes out. Just too darn cheerful, that girl.

French friend Denis had an adventure in Canada this week, to rival mine in France last year, when I left my handbag and passport on the train and miraculously got it back. He and Lynn returned to Montreal from their travels down east the day before their flight back to France, to discover that he had lost his passport. It had vanished somewhere on their peregrinations, camping in Algonquin, in New Brunswick, somewhere.

After endless searching and phone calls - the French consulate of course closed on the weekend - he reported the disappearance to the Montreal police, and that evening, he and Lynn went to the airport. They decided to bring his luggage on the extremely unlikely event that they'd let him on the plane. Well - with some consulting and viewing of the police documents, it was ascertained that his French identity papers would be enough the other end, and he flew. They had a marvellous flight and a safe journey back to Provence. Amazing.

I remember the summer of 2002 when Sam and Anna were flying from Toronto to Kelowna to visit their grandparents. Anna had brought her passport, but Sam, who was 16, didn't have his, and they would not let him fly. A skinny 16 year old couldn't get on the plane in Toronto to visit his grandparents in Vernon because he didn't have a passport. I was so livid, they almost detained me. We had to drive home, pick it up and drive back; Anna flew alone, Sam had to wait hours and didn't get in until 2 a.m. So absurd.

And now, someone can fly from Canada to France without a passport. The world of travel is perhaps a tiny bit more sane.