Even if it is your good fortune not to have suffered greatly in life, I suspect you have nonetheless endured the challenge of moving on. I reckon no one is spared the occasional trial. We all have something we’d prefer to leave behind. It really matters very little that the strength of one’s particular encounter with fate is of comparatively weak intensity; in the end, accommodating a tribulation of any degree exacts some measure of duress. The consequence of moving on is letting go; the two concepts go hand-in-hand. One concept (moving on) is prospective; the other (letting go) is retrospective. You cannot move ahead if your foot is on the brake.
Category Archives: General
The Easter Bunny
On a bright and hopeful morning in early spring, the village woke to the gentle promise of Easter Sunday.
The grass still held tiny pearls of dew, and the air smelled faintly of chocolate—though no one quite knew why.
Inside a cozy blue house at the end of Maple Lane, three children were already wide awake.
“Do you think he’s been?” whispered Clara, her eyes shining.
“Of course he has,” said her older brother Thomas, trying to sound certain, though he hadn’t yet checked.
Their little sister, Rosie, bounced on her bed. “The Easter Bunny never forgets!”
They rushed downstairs in a flurry of slippers and giggles.
And there it was.
The living room had been transformed overnight.
Brightly coloured eggs peeked out from behind cushions. A trail of tiny foil-wrapped chocolates led toward the garden door. And on the table sat three baskets—each one tied with a ribbon.
Rosie gasped. “He remembered my favourite! Milk chocolate!”
Thomas picked up an egg and turned it over thoughtfully. “Strange,” he said. “Last year they were all in the garden. Why inside this time?”
Clara narrowed her eyes. “Maybe something went wrong.”
The three of them froze.
“What if…” Rosie whispered, “…the Easter Bunny had trouble?”
That was all it took.
Adventure, after all, waits for no child on Easter morning.
They pulled on coats over their pajamas and slipped out into the garden.
At first, everything looked normal. Blossoms trembled in the breeze. A robin hopped along the fence.
But then Thomas spotted something unusual.
Footprints.
Not quite rabbit. Not quite anything.
They followed the trail past the apple tree, through the gate, and into the small wooded path beyond their yard.
“Do you think he’s hurt?” Clara asked quietly.
Rosie clutched her basket tighter. “We have to help him.”
The trail led them to a little clearing—and there, behind a fallen log, they found him.
The Easter Bunny.
He was real. And he looked…exhausted.
“Oh dear,” he said, adjusting his tiny waistcoat. “I was hoping no one would notice.”
“You’re late!” Rosie blurted out.
“Rosie,” Clara said gently.
The Bunny gave a tired smile. “Not late. Just…overworked this year. So many children. So many eggs. And I seem to have misplaced my last basket.”
Thomas stepped forward. “We found lots already. You did a good job.”
The Bunny’s whiskers twitched. “Did I?”
Clara knelt beside him. “You did. But maybe…you don’t have to do it all alone.”
There was a long pause.
Then Rosie held out her basket. “You can have some of mine.”
Thomas nodded. “We can help you next year.”
The Bunny’s eyes softened.
“Well,” he said, “that might just be the finest Easter gift I’ve ever received.”
He stood, a little steadier now, and brushed off his coat.
“Kindness,” he said, “is the secret ingredient. Not chocolate. Though chocolate helps.”
Rosie giggled.
With a small bow, the Easter Bunny hopped away, his energy somehow restored.
The children made their way back home, the morning now glowing brighter than before.
Inside, their baskets waited.
But somehow, the chocolate tasted even sweeter.
And from that day on, every Easter morning held a quiet little mystery—
not just of eggs hidden in clever places,
but of kindness, shared and returned,
like a secret only children truly understand.
Afternoon escape,,,
We’ve primarily devoted the day to the abandonment of winter. The weather – though brisk – promises to reach 20°C by Good Friday, the beginning of the Easter long weekend and the welcome surge towards springtime. I punctuated the wishful advent by tricycling up the ramp from the subterranean garage onto the street into the open air. Naturally I had forgotten to wear gloves so my hands quickly resembled blocks of ice. Nonetheless with the aid of the electronic button on the tricycle handle I launched up the hill to the uppermost avenue, across the generous flat, then down another slide to return home. In all 2.64 Km which is just shy of my daily scheme of 3 Km over an estimated 30 – 40 minutes (depending upon how much and how often I stop to gossip).
The first quarter,,,
President Trump of the United States of America is angry at the NATO allies for not coming forward to repair the opening of the Strait of Hormuz. This unwelcome state of affairs signals further division between America and its erstwhile friends. The mechanics of the entire globe is undergoing an undeniable shift, including possibly a revival of strictly conservative thinking contradicted by an equally vociferous liberal agenda. If Iran gets its way, there may also be a heightened claim to possessory entitlement to levy charges similar to usage of the Panama Canal. When all is considered, international geography is at the forefront of global financial management. Oil remains an elemental feature of the modern world – in spite of China’s latest news that it has perfected a battery to charge its EVs (electric vehicles) in record time (equivalent to the time devoted to filling a gas tank).
Bouldering
This morning when my partner messaged his eponymous nephew Denis Secundus to invite him chez nous for an afternoon tea, he replied that he was about to leave to join his two sons in bouldering.
When you least expect…
Although not everything lately has gone as swimmingly as I might have wished, undeniably today is the least worrisome I have been in a while. The combination of both medical and dental emergencies over the past four months has at last – thanks to the inestimable talent of my professional advisors – become tolerable. This afternoon, in deference to my new-found tranquility, I positioned myself on the balcony overlooking the field and upriver. When not dozing in the warm sunshine – stimulated in my dreamlike state by the squawking Canada geese which had assembled in parade lines along the river’s shores – I contemplated the summary fate of aging. Specifically I ruminated upon the narrowing reserve of one’s friends.
The geocentric view of the cosmos
PTOLEMY (2nd century) Greek astronomer and geographer. His teachings had enormous influence on medieval thought, the geocentric view of the cosmos being adopted as Christian doctrine until the late Renaissance. Ptolemy’s Geography, giving lists of places with their longitudes and latitudes, was also a standard work for centuries, despite its inaccuracies.
Some other time
The lyrics of “Some Other Time” have beguiled me for years. The melody is mesmerizing. Whenever I hear it, it instantly puts me in a state of reflective reverie and melancholy. I first listened to the song on a CD called “A Jazz Romance: A Night in With Verve” released January 1, 1998, Universal Studios Canada Ltd. The piece is beautifully performed by Diana Krall (vocal) and Mark Whitfield (guitar). To jazz enthusiasts these artists represent the top of their class. I have since discovered that the CD is a “must have” for the jazz aficionado.
On the deck
Today is indisputably a springtime day heralding the annual freshet. There are squawking geese amassing on the river and triangulating high in the sky. The snow is melting in the open farmlands and the temperatures are rising charitably above freezing. It’s late afternoon. I’m sitting on the balcony overlooking the sodden fields and churning river beyond. We’ve just returned from Oxford Mills where we lunched on mussels in a creamy parmesan sauce with an exotic side of a tiny loaf of bread individually served on a cutting board with miniature ceramic bowls of butter and olive oil.
For all other enquiries, Press “0”
The frustration one experiences in attempting to contact anyone in a large or even moderately large organization by telephone is compounded initially by automation and latterly by privacy legislation. Both features appear designed to defeat the caller in his or her attempt to communicate. The incident invariably ends in complete annoyance, usually only heightening the angst which prompted the effort in the beginning.