As was to be expected the drive across the bridge from the mainland was a vital introduction to Prince Edward Island. Within moments of gandering the approaching ocean vistas there was recognizable relief. A sign to Victoria by the Sea or a roadside retail of new potatoes or the sight of a coastal marshland – they each inspired an immediate and soothing response.
Recently I was intrigued to hear an account of the construction of a cedar split-rail fence. The narrative was rendered by a gentleman who combines the very agreeable attributes of a pedagogue and a farmer. There are few things I have ever pined to build; normally I content myself with the appreciation of what others have fabricated. But the traditional criss-cross wooden fences which ornament so many of the extraordinarily lovely farms in Lanark County have always captured my attention beyond mere artistry. Though I highly doubt I shall ever have occasion to engage in the construction of a fence it is at least a topic about which I am curious.
The unparalleled perplexity of EV charging has once again today topped our otherwise modest perambulation history. Though – after hugely frustrating disruption and annoyance – we were at last able to activate a charging session at our halfway point of travel earlier in the day, we learned (on a subsequent try further along at the end of our route) to our distress that we hadn’t mastered the skill. However with the assistance of a young woman (who with her bearded beau and puppy Bichon Frisé had just charged her own vehicle aside our own), we succeeded to capture the initiative of one of several Apps we fortunately had already activated (and – most importantly – had already added funds to the account). Using our App (and the underlying map) she instructed us how to find and select the exact pump then to begin the charging process.
Throughout this twisting chapter and challenge – but entirely unrelated to our immediate purpose, I saw a small commercial van advertising a window cleaning service. The metaphor of improving one’s view instantly overtook me. It invoked as well the universality of the application; that is, each of us – whatever our mode or direction – is faced with the need and possibility of renewal. While there may be an inarguable weight to the preservation of the status quo as well as the familiarity of all that we already know, there is a more fortifying alternative to be derived from embracing new steps though short and unsteady and sometimes upon gravelly paths.
At the end of the day – in spite of the intervening tumult – we have positioned ourselves exactly as planned. Tomorrow it’s Prince Edward Island! The redolent image of the island recalls another late summer adventure with my partner years ago. We had swirled about the island, touching upon isolated and pristine beaches, sometimes witnessing shuddered coastal wooden structures standing tall and tranquil still bleached by the summer’s sun and wind, recalling lonesome thoughts from nowhere.
Strangely perhaps it requires but a common – though far from ordinary – feature to distinguish a fine hotel from one that is passable. That distinction is the family touch – that feeling you get when you’re home again, reduced to the elemental but highly functional ingredients of practiced familiarity.
Our preference when going anywhere is to do so in relative calm which in this instance means avoiding signs such as those announcing Montréal Centre-Ville. This metaphor translated to driving along the southern boundary of the St. Lawrence River to escape modern urbanity.
We left Almonte at ten o’clock this morning en route to Vaudreuil-Dorion which we calculated to be a mere 2 hours away.
Vaudreuil-Dorion is a suburb of Greater Montreal, in the Montérégie region of southwestern Quebec, Canada. The result of the merger of two towns, Vaudreuil and Dorion.
Canadians have become disrespectful. Once dismissed as fawningly civil, the realization that we have it all has prompted an abrupt – and some would say, a much anticipated – awakening, albeit manifestly cheeky. No longer are we content merely to participate. We’re now shoulder-to-shoulder with others.
It isn’t often I feel obliged to utter an encomium upon being served a plate of food. Unwittingly this afternoon at the golf club, however, that very imperative ensued. When returning from the city where we had delved into a pressing retail matter, and feeling the weight of what had been steady application since early morning concerning matters of a similar perspective, we thought it wise to stop in the Village of Appleton for a reprieve from the day’s commotion and studiousness. We settled upon having a late luncheon or early dinner at the golf club. We were not disappointed!
There is so much to read! It’s a constant conglomeration! I hardly have time to absorb the detail from Country Life – which I only receive weekly at best. And then there’s the news, whatever one reads on the internet; and electronic books, plus stuff forwarded by friends from their personal resources. Not to mention having to read one’s emails. And I’m dyslexic so it takes me longer!
The golden stained cornstalks bow in the wind, progressively reflecting upon one another in softly shifting corridors that sweep across the field with the dancing melody of the imperceptible gusts. There is a chance of rain. Autumn is coming.