A rainy Saturday

I am able to recall almost every rainy day in the past six months, not because they were particularly memorable but because there were so few of them on Key Largo to recollect. Even during the past three weeks since we crossed the border from the United States of America to Canada, the weather has been predominantly clear. Yesterday I received an email from our former next door neighbour on Buttonwood Bay (she and her husband are from Boston).  She alluded to rejoining us this coming winter on Key Largo for more sunny days. Thus when I awoke today to see doleful cloudy skies and dripping beads of water upon the floor-to-ceiling windows, I was in the mood for a very different music than the one to which I am accustomed. I won’t say mournful but at least melancholy. Rainy days do that to me.

Unquestionably the allure of the Florida Keys during the season is the perpetual sunshine and associated heat. It is (so I have heard) a very different ambience during the hurricane season which I believe runs from August to early October prior to which there can be unendurable heat. But the brief periods of January, February and March are highly popular, being exquisitely comfortable and uniquely uniform. Those of us who linger outside the circumference of the season are accustomed to the additional privilege of ephemeral tranquillity.

Here at home there is little that will disappoint me at this juncture.  As we had hoped, we’ve succeeded to rebuild our residence in this new complex upon the river. Already everything about the development has insinuated the local environment through the magic of blend, transition and a good deal of thoughtful landscaping. The apartment building has a decided régime, one which of necessity appeals primarily to persons without children. The constraint in this regard is the lack of space.  The apartments are small, reflecting the new miniature model. We haven’t yet transitioned to the accommodation I saw years ago evident in the bachelor apartments (as they were called) in New York City; but the galley kitchen, the evaporation of doorways and the transition to “open concept” have achieved a similar result. Space for me has always been a challenge of manipulation; accordingly, the less of it I have to concern me, the better. This is not however to suggest that I am above or beneath skilful translation. The decision to position my desk facing the drawing room window, having a regard upon the nearby river, is critical. I am also taken by the expediency and construction of the new patio furniture. These pointed elements of position and hardware have formulated a very appropriate posture both in and out of the apartment.

Meanwhile His Lordship assures me that he is confident within his study (though I haven’t abandoned the expression of a visitor’s seating). These are mere refinements, curious absorptions which I find are serendipitously resolved.  We have no compelling reason at the moment to pursue these tweaks. And as is to exemplify my point, already the sun is beginning to brighten the shore of the river.

It is probably because we have upon our return contemporaneously recaptured our normal conduct (by which I mean bicycling) that I have satisfied myself today to assume a day of rest and to submit to the dreary, wet weather. Instead of exercise I shall devote myself to a strong coffee and an improving leaf of literature. This after all is the imperative of a rainy day, especially one such as this which I can view so munificently from my drawing room desk.