It is now past mid-August. The heated summer days are waning. The buzz of flies has been replaced by the wistful drone of the cicada. The once burgeoning field of soy beans is a shimmering mat of child-high proportions, uniformly managed adjacent the river not unlike a seigneurial acreage. The entire aspect across the fields to the distant horizon is similarly allotted and besotted by wavering divisions of green or tawny and drifting banks of leaves atop the bulbous interceding trees. The anatomy of autumn is no doubt soon to unfold; but for today its introduction is pushed aside.

The sky is an uncomplicated azure dome. Already it is approaching 29°C. We’re driving on our way to the interior of Lanark County along the Rideau River surrounded by Merrickville-Wolford, Oxford Mills, Beveridge Locks, Westport and Seeley’s Bay. We will by-pass the golf club in the Village of Appleton today.

In a word, the brunch today was unhurried, unquestionably sufficient and exceedingly pleasant. It was a victory for old but not forgotten friendships (and sometimes hesitant recollections of whimsical behaviour). It was a celebration of developing alliances and future heartfelt memories. Between evocative moments on the piano, laughing together in the drawing room and patting the handsome Springer Spaniel named Tanner; or contemplatively reflecting by the pool on the deck with a cigarette, then very comfortably seated at table in an ample dining room with an abundance of all and more that I adore, then more yet again that followed, it was unequivocally an event such as we had anticipated but naturally never imagined to acquit itself accordingly.

There were pauses and insights; blank and blunt recalls and similarly designed suspicions; tossing the head back or casting a look aside; the flame of familiarity and benefit of history and concordance, vacant old stories and lies (probably) and the satisfaction of a well-prepared meal, including afterwards homemade sweets and delicacies!

We languished on our way homeward, relishing the smoothness of the drive, the incomparable gratification of whom we are privileged to know and the placid geography that is at our door and abounds. Some things are inexpressible and beggar description!