The times, they are a-changin'. The snow softly falls (something that's not happened for a while) and Charity and I have been sitting in our living room, acting for all the world like a married couple in pre-television, pre-computer days (except we were livestreaming a classical station from Toronto). Both of us felt the same way. We just wanted to "be" and to do quiet activities from quieter times. Charity was (is) knitting and I was writing (in a notebook, with a pen, for no work purpose).

This evening's activities hopefully are a harbinger of things to come. Back in Toronto having a quieter life, a slower pace, was part of our motivation for wanting to move. It felt as if we never slowed down back there. Weekends we spent crashing--slumping in front of the TV or renting a video--just to pull ourselves together for the next round.

Toronto is, I believe, the fifth largest metropolitan area in North America with its six million souls, including suburbs. Calgary has a million. To a greater extent, people here take time to talk. I'm now pals, sort of, with the property manager where we live. We're on personal terms and know quite a bit about each other's lives. When I interviewed my first subject for that article last week, it was the same story. We took the time to get personal. On my return visit to the dentist I'd seen for a semi-emergency three weeks ago, we spent ten minutes chatting about our move to Calgary, about the beauty of the mountains, and so on.

Yes, the pace here is quickening (as longtime natives are quick to point out) but even with all the growth, it still feels to me more like Mayberry, U.S.A. than a big city. Now that's an exaggeration: I don't think Mayberry had acres of big box stores, an international airport, or an NHL franchise. But by comparison to "The Big Smoke", this in heaven.