The golden crowned cornstalks in the field tumbling down to the river are now high enough to run through and get lost. There is another field just like it in the distance.  And one further beyond that.  Then more still. There is nothing else between us here in the Town of Almonte and there in the Village of Appleton. Just endless cornfields and trees shimmering in the balmy summer breeze.

Yes, the village of Appleton is indeed located within the former Township of Ramsay. Today, the Township of Ramsay is part of the larger municipality of Mississippi Mills which was formed by amalgamating Almonte, Ramsay, and Pakenham in 1998.

It’s Saturday today. Judging by those of us who remain on home territory – and who are not engaged in peripheral boating, travel or other seclusion – it’s also a calm day, one which invites moderation and being mesmerized by the hint of atmospheric change as the soft wind blows upon the fields and the clouds invoke alternate colours of blue and misty grey.

The Optiq glazed effortlessly upon the highways between here and the County of Renfrew whither I directed my afternoon formality in order to profit by the inexpressibly pleasant summer day today. Today is the introduction to what promises to be an hiatus of a week between medical appointments and any other obligation of similar weight. Shamefully perhaps we find ourselves on occasion bemoaning our fate with its incidental exigencies. And while I apologize for the misbehaviour, it is nonetheless quite remarkable how energizing it is to have that magic feeling – Nowhere to go, nothing to do.

Outside once again – yes, even the Roquefort and espresso do not inhibit my frequent glances across the desk onto the know whispering field of cornstalks as the summer wind engages – yes, outside once again – I am reminded of the utter richness of life. This, in spite of having shared earlier this morning the mournful state of a mother who recently lost a child to a freak accident. Indeed perhaps in spite of the vulgar fortune of life at times (whereby it removes with the identical precision that it generates), we parted with the shared sentiment that buoyancy is the preferred state of mind, not focussing upon loss.

Subsequently I embroidered this mystical sentiment when I encountered Brenda on the home stretch of her 1-hour morning tour walking fully around the block. She is always guaranteed to be of uplifting disposition (except by coincidence the time she alerted us to the very loss of the child I just mentioned). Otherwise we exchange so many quips with one another that I cannot keep track of what either of us has said; but it is primarily assured to be of a comic nature.  Importantly Brenda – not unlike all others whom I know  living here – is settled with her decision to live here, as are we. It’s the old “feet first” business. Just as I was leaving the apartment this morning to prepare for my tricycle ride, I met the man and woman who have moved in next door.  They too said they were happy with the decision. All of us invoke the standard comment about diminished size; but, by equal custom, we acknowledge the assuagement of the view.

It is part of my burgeoning awareness  – I think “wisdom” would be inappropriately powerful – to acknowledge the value and importance of one’s current state of affairs.  By this I mean that we must both appreciate (that is, assess, calculate, identify) and measure (weigh, codify) whatever situation we find ourselves. It means too that we must honestly accept who and where we are. This can be a difficult enterprise if, at the time, one disapproves of who one is; or, one persists to believe that there is a preferred alternate venue. I say this not as instruction to myself; rather as evidence of the perspicuity for having done so. So content am I with that analysis that I am inclined to sustain an immoderate degree of approbation. It’s all part of what makes things go.

Everything – I am certain – is best commenced with an outline of what is to be done, in accordance with or allowed by an established set of principles (inbred and ingrained). These principles mustn’t be purely cosmetic. The curious thing of course is that each of us is different. Thus affording a proper view of oneself is elemental and as such both warranted and intrinsic. Adding this direction to an otherwise superb day has succeeded to paint a delightful image of the day. Constitution is a complicated formula; its construction is its fettle.