Things started with an energetic beginning this morning.  It was another discernibly brilliant day. I had heard the seven o’clock chime but decided to remain in bed until precisely eight o’clock.  When the clock chimed again, I knew it was time to inflate the day.  I felt it was about to be an uncommon day. We had been invited to dine with my erstwhile physician at his country seat in the Village of Ashton.  When we had last spoken about the proposal several days ago during a previous visit, he had informed us who the invitees were to be and that the meal would significantly constitute an end of season foregathering.  My partner had already noted the profusion of small tomatoes in the vines circulating the deck overlooking the meadow. Our host also confirmed the meal was to be the traditional vegetarian pasta which we had so often savoured together in the past. We knew too that our friend’s gastronomic talent was not to be diminished.  We looked forward to the repast with evident gusto.

In anticipation of the evening meal I ensured this morning to tricycle my regular 4Km about the neighbourhood.  Because the Olympic outing was earlier than usual  – that is, before nine o’clock – I didn’t see many of the people whom I normally see when I tricycle later in the day. Nonetheless there were others walking with their dogs and children in the park and on the sidewalk. I didn’t however stop to chat with anyone in particular.  So I didn’t gather any gossip or other intelligence.

When I returned home to the apartment for breakfast (preceded by a session on the balcony facing directly into the sun) my sister emailed to advise she had something for me to collect.  It was a perfect opportunity for me to drive my car. So I hurriedly finished my breakfast and set off to the City.  Travel into the City is no big deal for many people. But for me it is.  Especially when having to go as far as Dow’s Lake nearby where my sister and her husband live.  Of course I made it there without difficulty but it nonetheless presented a challenge for this old fogey.  When I later returned to my beloved Appleton Side Road I gleefully noted the difference!

I’ve become a typical country recluse. But on a glorious day such as today I haven’t any reservation. Being in this small town along the river is for me unequivocal paradise. My niece/ goddaughter has lately adopted a similar though even more rural alliance. She has told me that this pleases her immensely.  It gratifies me too not merely because of its attraction but also because of the parallel of our preferred rustic lifestyle.  I fully recollect many years ago upon my arrival in Almonte having the sensation that I had made the right decision; and I have never regretted it for a moment.  Not then, not now.