Late afternoon today in the distant fading sky are flocks of Canada geese circulating above the placid though burgeoning river below. The mirror upon the former icy gloss of the river’s face has revealed a rich blue with only a rim of pure white snow surviving on the shorelines. Today is Saturday, March 21st, the date often greeted as the first day of spring. This year the much vaunted inauguration was actually yesterday, Friday, March 20th.
It is unclear to me when I awoke to the psychic stimulus that is shopping. Until I was 24 years of age (after graduating from law school) I was dependent upon my parents for stuff. My mother (never my father) looked after whatever I required. I was merely a delivery destination. Frankly, during my prep school, undergraduate and graduate studies I hadn’t much but the faintest interest in shopping. My preoccupation until then was my education. Whether my mother bought me something from Ashbury’s annual antique sales, Alyea’s Jewellers, Nordiska Kompaniet, Georg Jensen or Flesher Furs, I seldom had any part of the initial commercial transaction other than supplying the obvious details of product, colour and size.
No doubt, my dear Reader, you have noted that the legend of this particular monologue is not a question. It is an exclamation. Mind you, I suppose that, upon even modest analysis, it is self-evident that our 3-hour luncheon today (precisely from 11:30 am – 2:30 pm) is rationale enough for the idle ejaculation. What made it all the more timely (or, should I say, ill-timed) was that our confab at table, though hardly rambunctious, was ripe with pleasantries, whimsical barbs, insightful swipes, comic assertions, wry recollections and heartfelt reactions. And coincidentally it was a birthday celebration. That alone constitutes a serendipitous reference to the fleeting allusion.
The pistachio nut is the edible pale green seed of an Asian tree of the cashew family. The evergreen tree produces the pistachio, with small brownish-green flowers and oval reddish fruit. It is widely cultivated, especially around the Mediterranean and in the US.
The difference between anticipation and impatience is what makes the one thrilling, the other unnerving. I suppose there are many things to be said against both anticipation and impatience – you know, how it is better just to “live in the moment”, “qué serà serà” and how dreadful it is to be constantly restless and yearning. But impatience in my opinion has anticipation in the dust!
Unexpectedly this morning I received a telephone call from my ancient friend Bird in Halifax, Nova Scotia. She was one of the first people whom I met when I landed at Dalhousie law school fifty-six years ago; and – as I was reminded – she was among the last to see me go back to Upper Canada upon graduation to pursue my career. She alluded to our mutual South Pacific friend Cowie (an erstwhile professor of law) who, like Bird, was among the first and last of my friendships at law school. Bird said she and Cowie waved goodbye to me (and my fiancée) at the airport. It was a long, long time ago.
Given that Friday, March 20, 2026, 10:46 a.m. Northern Hemisphere · Eastern Time is the first day of spring, the vista today has a contrastingly frigid emergence as the dwindling snowbanks are cemented in the sub-zero temperatures and yesterday’s pools of water on the balcony are hardened. On the river’s edge, secluded from the brisk northeast wind, a flock of Canada geese retreats among the spires of cattails. When they fly, the geese are low-level, seemingly intent upon landing immediately again. The river glistens, illuminated by the blurred sunlight through the grey clouds. Sunday morning CBC FM ecstatically proclaims les Voix du Monde while the white and tawny colours of the fields lend the likeness of a sacramental runner upon the altar.
Whether awakening today within the shadow of Table Mountain, whether enjoying the arresting view of a late winter snowfall or whether transfixed by the image of a tall ship on the sea, the inspiring impression beneath the surface is the coming of spring. It is Nature’s own arousal. Naturally it is a northern hemisphere progression, a cycle punctuated by an email from the South Pacific in which my dear friend Pierre in New Zealand wryly noted, “Beautiful sunny autumn day today, 21°C”. Nonetheless in true Bertie Wooster fashion, the brilliantly sunny day evokes a naughty but innocent Boomps-a-Daisy character. We can never totally control our vantage of the perspective; but we can always control our perspective of the vantage.
AI Overview
In Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, the phrase “apple-pie order” is used to describe the meticulously organized books and records kept by the Company’s chief accountant at the Central Station. The accountant keeps his books in “apple-pie order”—meaning perfectly arranged, neat, and in flawless condition—despite the surrounding “muddle” of the station, which includes disorganized buildings, decaying machinery, and brutal colonial violence. Marlow respects the accountant’s dedication to his work as a form of “backbone,” yet this obsession with order highlights a profound moral detachment. The accountant focuses entirely on his books, complaining that the groans of a dying, sick agent interrupt his work, while ignoring the larger human tragedy surrounding him.
Whether it features soup in Vietnam, biscotti in Italy, or scrambled eggs in the United States, breakfast revs up the body after a night’s sleep, giving us energy and nutrients to face the day. Studies suggest that eating breakfast regularly is associated with good health — and that the timing of the meal, as well as what’s in it, matters.