A vestige of snow encrusted the ground this morning. It was just enough to delay our constitutional bicycle ride, our expiation of all that has plagued us from our past, the white flakes crystallizing the future. The cold wind rattled the few remaining leaves on the already naked boughs of the solitary frigid trees.
What have I to contemplate while waiting for the past to go?
Time is running out
The candidates fight, it’s still a bout
Battleground states, the keys to victory
But many polls are contradictory
There is some traction to be gained from pure optimism, that inescapable encouragement from others – or maybe the instinctive project of oneself – to see the best side of things, to look at life as a challenge to be overcome, to arise above the nagging refrains which pull us down. Yet while these psychological and philosophic communications or intuitions may represent a worthy ambition, the result is more predictable and digestible (as it was today) when the bicycle ride was divine, the blueberry scone was utter perfection, the coffee was chilled, black and strong, the sky was blue, the air was dry and cold and generally speaking I was in a seemingly inexhaustible bumps-a-daisy mood!
By coincidence I am listening to Ludovico Einaudi’s “Petricor” from his “Elements” album. I say it is fortuitous because its very pensive nature coincides delightfully with our afternoon drive into the country today. We once again abandoned our digs upon the scheduled visit of our housekeeper whom we’re quite certain can bear the deprivation of our presence while she attends to things. Normally we would have had some debate about where to go, in what direction to head and what to do. But COVID-19 has pretty much diluted that. And because the weather was inclement the landscape was universally grey and uninviting.
Of all the emotions and settled thoughts which have convinced me inalterably – or at the very least persuaded me beyond hesitation – two set themselves apart. One, is the recognition that razor clams in brine are not for everyone. Two, is the recognition that certain people are crazy. These are naturally purely metaphorical. The first for example captures the peculiarly individual – and innately powerful – characteristic of each of us. The second – though admittedly not as patent – is a universal trait which springs from a lapse which any one of us might suffer. Consider those instances when sudden paranoia or frightful impalpability arise.
From the outset I confess I am among others who – although oft times more vocally than I – have generously acknowledged Donald J. Trump’s foray into politics. It usually goes something like this, “Well, you gotta give him credit!” When listening this morning to a FOX NEWS recording of Trump’s latest rally two things were patent: one, his rhetoric always entails a trashy-mouthed tale of discredit about somebody; and, two, he says nothing substantive – or if it seems that he does, it is usually false.
“Trumpery” first appeared in English in the mid-15th century with the meanings “deceit or fraud” (a sense that is now obsolete) and “worthless nonsense.” Less than 100 years later, it was being applied to material objects of little or no value.
There was a time when getting out of bed beyond 7:00 am was an event I considered wholly scandalous! It was either a wilful disregard of obligation or an abuse of privilege. Nor did it matter whether the monstrous disgrace transpired on a weekend or a weekday. Indeed a weekend – especially if the weather were favourable – was all the more cause to get up and to get going! From those pastoral though Stoic days I have now thankfully broken free. In a word my descent to the nether ambitions has afforded me a smug complacency.
An indisputable novelty of staying north for the winter is the very nearly imperceptible remake of the seasons. Travelling south at this time of year has characteristically exhausted the delicacy notwithstanding the taunting though evanescent insinuations of the Shenandoah Valley and the Blue Mountains en route.
Even though the extraordinarily pleasing weather today had been forecast several days ago we were nonetheless smitten from the moment of arising this morning! We immediately opened the patio door on the balcony and cranked back the windows throughout the apartment. Part of the forecast is a precipitous decline of the temperature overnight ushering in what appears to be unremittingly cool weather. We have but fleetingly escaped traditional autumnal weather.
Show me someone who doesn’t know tonight is the final debate between US presidential hopefuls Trump and Biden! From the moment I awoke this morning – no, throughout the past three days – I have been consumed by the upcoming event! It surprised me to learn when speaking today with a long-time friend in Nova Scotia that he and his gun dogs are able to bear the deprivation. He said he’d prefer to drink his martini in peace! It is perhaps a poignant notification that we for our part have descended to the vulgarity of the groundlings.