During the golfing season most of the social events in the clubhouse commence in the afternoon. There was a time I concerned myself about possibly interrupting early morning activity but now the only reason to call ahead is to book a table for ourselves. So it was, this morning, that we secured a table overlooking the fairway.
We could not have chosen a more ideal Saturday morning for a springtime breakfast at 175 Constance Lake Road nearby the Village of Dunrobin along the Ottawa River on the outskirts of Kanata. The azure dome was brightened by irrepressible yellow sunshine. The wind, though still brisk, refreshed the air and stiffened one’s resolve. The weekend atmosphere was palpable along March Road descending to Durobin Shores; that is, the traffic was noticeably less frantic than is customary during the workdays.
All is now in abeyance. But until the day was complete there was ample reason for reluctance. Let me explain.
The leaves, grass and flowers are not the only organisms flourishing in the springtime. The improvement of the weather from its former frigid dimension to a more adaptable expression has collaterally stimulated other indicia of daily living in the country. This morning, for example, not long after I awakened and then savoured a delightful protein and fibrous breakfast (including the lip smacking teaser of palm tree dates) I pushed off around the neighbourhood on my trusty (and, so I was later told, my dusty) tricycle. The object of my journey was twofold: one, an old fogey’s interpretation of athleticism (today – should you care to know – an impressive 4.95 Km and Avg. Speed 6.9 Km/h); and, two, the irrefragable advantage of sunshine and fresh air.
Awakening to a sunshiny day – especially during that narrow avenue called springtime – is my preference. Not that I abhor the contemplative inspiration of multi-designed grey clouds in shimmering white billows. But never have I purposively distanced myself from a uniformly azure sky. Yet today I had to work to accommodate the balance of Nature.
Stabilizing oneself is an ongoing adventure, controlled not by vulgar personal ambition so much as the modest fulfillment of scheduled daily tasks. First attend to what is at hand. Admittedly for the agèd community in particular, many of the pressing routine activities centre upon medical purpose. It is an unglamorous and unanticipated abridgement directed to the depictions of one’s family physician or corresponding specialist who in turn collectively have carriage of one’s well being.
Dear Reader, I think you’ll grant that generalities often border on platitude. Yet I dare say that the fortuity of one’s day is largely unpredictable. This is particularly so when estimating one’s personal well-being as opposed to assessment of global patterns. My day today, for example, began uneventfully, one might reasonably say disappointingly. The diminished strength of Tylenol Regular – as opposed to Tylenol Arthritis to which I formerly subscribed – was causing me ineludible annoyance. The drug wasn’t moderating the lingering pain in my abdomen (wherein reside my broken ribs).
When I awoke this morning the first thing I did was take my blood pressure reading on my BIOS Diagnostics™ monitor. The accompanying energy was somewhat like playing with one’s newest toy following Christmas morning. The device has all the features required of an absorbing accessory – akin to a device of almost any description, whether a smartphone, watch, camera or radio. They are all creations which enable self-expression and which require a measure of adaptation.
It was not long after my arrival in Almonte in 1976 – now almost precisely 50 years ago – that I first heard the comic proclamation: “Hurray! Hurray! The first of May! Outdoor screwin’ starts today!” It was told to me by a white-haired Mrs. Annie Honeyborne, my neighbour (and her husband Frank aka “Honey”) directly across the street. It was on that identical corridor (Martin St S) that in the summer of 1976 I witnessed a float celebrating the Almonte Fair. The float had displayed on it a large banner which simply said, “Gidday!” My introduction was complete! It has survived as a test of the truly local candidate.
Introduction:
I think you’ll agree that Almonte is rather like one big family. As with any family, no history is complete without mentioning some of its stories and folklore. Gathered here are a collection of accounts (some factual, others clearly not) which I have plucked from my personal diaries. I hope that within these sometimes preposterous tales and otherwise plausible narratives there will be some historical enlightenment or at least a bit of news to enhance your knowledge of our Town.
Before 11:00 o’clock this morning I returned from a tricycle ride about the neighbourhood. While I employed the electric feature of the trike sparingly to ascend the uphill streets, escaping the brisk morning air was more difficult. Indeed the only way of avoiding the brittle feature was to reverse the direction of my path with the wind behind me. The outing (3.77 KM) made for smart fingers and frozen kneecaps (I insist upon wearing shorts at the earliest opportunity).