Summer in paradise. In this town we boil and chill at the same time.

First, the steamy part.

From that winter’s afternoon when I shared a Balzac’s coffee with Stuart McCormack — and heard his vision for a rebel army of rebellion-minded citizens — until his standing-room-only blowout meeting last month, it’s been a textbook revolt.

In a few months NOTL has birthed a political revolution — with elected officials (starring our lordly mayor) letting it happen.

They have a logo, money, social media creds, volunteers, a structure, manifesto and a cause.

Plus now they have targets. Results are in from a significant public survey the rebs conducted, tabulated and analyzed. In the crosshairs is the way current local politicians are viewed (think measles), development and tourism (outta control) and the fact we now have a “strong” mayor (with weaker support).

It’s never a good thing when normally docile folks believe councillors are in the pockets of developers, that the town’s government is anti-family or that public matters are shielded from, well, the public. But here we are.

“There is visible support for a leadership change in the next election,” says the group, “alongside deep concerns about corruption, integrity and democratic erosion.” And this is Niagara-on-the-Lake. Not the White House. (Although both have real estate guys in charge.)

The issues are legion. Most have been referenced in this pathetic column in recent months. Scads of new hotel rooms approved. Highrise condos sprouting. Trees slaughtered. Heritage structures compromised. Gutless regs on Airbnbs. Too few long-term rentals, families or kids.

Unchecked development. Loss of character. The Mississauganization of a truly unique, historic, bucolic place.

But, mostly, it’s about the elected not listening.

“Residents feel ignored,” say the rebels. “Widespread frustration that council members and staff do not listen to or respect public input, especially on contentious development issues. Dismissive behaviour: Reports of councillors ignoring delegations, being on phones during meetings and predetermined agendas.”

So, lots of bitching and moaning. Grievances and anger. A year ago a good chunk of the town protested outside town hall. To no avail. This year it’s war. They want inside.

Now let’s talk about your chilling house.

Since our home ownership rate is well north of 80 per cent, real estate’s a big deal here. You may have noticed more For Sale signs sprouting along with the dandelions, and the occasional starving realtor sleeping in her Range Rover. In a word, the market’s capitulated.

“It shows the quick impact that the global/American geo-political environment has had,” says Bosley broker Patrick Burke.

Indeed, sales so far in 2025 are the lowest in more than a decade and a half. This week there are 3,300 available listings, the highest number ever, while sales have tanked far below the 10-year average.

Logic says things should be better. Mortgages in the low four per cent range are OK by historic standards. Lenders are eager. There are new incentives to save for and finance a house (like our absurd new tax dodge, the FHSA). Bidding wars are over. And buyers have a cornucopia of choice.

But one ingredient is in short supply — confidence. No wonder. Tariffs. Elections peppered with warnings. Layoffs. Maybe a recession. Plus Trump, Trump and more Trump.

Well, oodles of supply and tepid demand usually mean sellers throwing in the towel, accepting low-ball offers.

Burke admits to “stagnant and downward pressure on pricing.” Average sale prices have dipped only modestly as the amount of available inventory soars past six months (during the 2021 rush we were down to a week or two).

But wait. Here’s a bargain. That Old Town waterfront home listed a few months ago at $12 million was chopped to just nine. What a relief.