Things are not austerely part of the broad binary definition of life; viz., things and thoughts (or if you prefer a more spiritual rendition, the physical and the metaphysical or the empirical and the transcendental). Certainly the division between corporeal and incorporeal is inarguable but I find the significance of each can be equally stirring. Downsizing is one of the accidents of aging. In retrospect – having undertaken the enterprise when I retired in 2014 – the process was both uninhibited and manifestly relieving.  There is nothing we abandoned to the auctioneer that we regret having lost. The synthesis of both commodity and introspection is oddly similar. Old gives way to new; sediments fall, vapours arise. Draff and grouts give way to clarity and refinement. That’s the good news – I am passionate about what remains after the scourge; the blacksnake is a godsend.

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The news last evening that India is undergoing another catastrophic and exceedingly deadly wave of the COVID virus or some variation of it was singularly disheartening. The universality of this disease is as plain as a pikestaff. Equally inescapable is the effect of remote contamination upon our own boundaries. No longer is this pandemic a mere interruption. It is now seen as Nature’s cleansing of the globe; a violent and volatile uncertainty.

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Combine a balmy springtime breeze billowing the white sheers with a Valse (based on a theme by Bach) performed by the Bill Evans Trio and Orchestra, and you have an idyllic morning scene spirited by pleasant emotions evaporating through the atmosphere. Music captures me then transports me.  Astonishingly when I am overcome by music the melody wafts within me and beacons happy memories. Music is the ultimate tranquillizer – instant sedation with no after effects other than a calmness.

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It is almost precisely 45 years ago that I arrived in Almonte. I thought I should challenge myself to mention some of what has changed.

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On a snowy springtime day in Canada there unfolds a drama in the United States of America which I suspect will mark the beginning of a renewed perception of their society, an abrupt recognition that outright brutality is offensive and punishable as criminal by the law of the nation. It is too late to be sorry for George Floyd; instead my concern is for Derek Michael Chauvin whose history will no doubt disclose the poisonous ingredients which overtook his own life.

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For the past three hours I lay asleep upon my green leather couch beneath a light blanket with an eye mask on. Gone is the afternoon! I have at least the dignity of knowing that when I said, “I’m tired” it was no idyll conviction. The midday nap is not normally on my list of activity and certainly not to this extent; but I confess the little of it I know I like. I am energized by noticeable zeal! Whatever it is that sleep does, it did it to me! I am now primed to organize the universe.

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Having a breezy Sunday afternoon in the middle of a pandemic lockdown is not what I would have envisioned a year ago when we precipitously – and quite unwillingly I might add -reclaimed terra firma upon return from the shores of Longboat Key on the Gulf of Mexico. Indeed I wonder that I mightn’t have looked so far ahead for any purpose. The postulation is therefore moot. Yet it illustrates the circumference of the compass that is one’s fortune.

In geometry, the circumference (from Latin circumferens, meaning “carrying around”) is the perimeter of a circle or ellipse. That is, the circumference would be the arc length of the circle, as if it were opened up and straightened out to a line segment. More generally, the perimeter is the curve length around any closed figure. Circumference may also refer to the circle itself, that is, the locus corresponding to the edge of a disk.

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Lately I’ve been inspired by the quality cheeses from nearby Province de Québec where I was born (Montréal) in 1948. My hysteria is a combination of superlative taste and the very warm feeling knowing it was made in Canada. The Americans and the French aren’t the only overt nationalists! When one can at last get past the daily absorption of educating oneself then putting it into practice, the ascent though not as rocketing goes through the very predictable stages of furnishings, jewellery, art and technology and finally cheese (and wine for those who swill). This rarefied atmosphere translates to a refinement or distillation of one’s sensory being – sight, smell, touch and taste.  It eclipses a good deal of trivia which might otherwise threaten a preferred enterprise of delectation.

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With the imposition of COVID restrictions by the provincial government life’s enchantment has once again narrowed. There is an exceedingly limited scope for diversion.  I hadn’t realized until this deprivation how much we counted upon casual outings for breakfast, lunch or dinner; or how regularly we took for granted the daily social conventions at coffee shops and retail stores. Nonetheless it’s not as though my agenda amounts to much in any event; and as further luck would have it, the primary things I like and normally do are attainable. Mine is a predominantly insular life. I am reminded of a former elderly local businessman who all his life had never been to the city a mere 30 kms distant. He was entirely unashamed of his claustral being; indeed I believe there was an underlying pride surrounding the small-town self-sufficiency.

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The Ivy Lea Parkway between Brockville and Gananoque along the St. Lawrence River is an expanding drive at any time of the year. Its nautical theme unquestionably draws traffic in the summer. No doubt the autumn is a preferred time of year as well. The summer however offers the Ivy Lea Club which is terrific for a meal in the main lodge or an ice cream in the adjoining studio. Naturally all this – except for takeout – is under wraps at present because of COVID. There isn’t even a public washroom available on site.

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