As we squished our way along the smooth highway surface, the car splattered by the large wet snowflakes of a late Spring day, glancing at the grey and brown countryside covered in its mantle of whiteness, we talked. The conversation was initially of a summary nature, rounding out our most recent communications with friends, ensuring that each of us had all the details of what was said, including the nuances, then surmising what they are intending to do.  The digestion of all the raw material afforded us by our friends requires time and reflection.  No one is completely transparent; the application of reasoning is required to deduce the correct conclusion, or at least to attempt to reach the correct conclusion.  For the most part we’re more amused by what our friends say and do than by where they are going.  Besides speculation is so often wrong.

We also tossed about the idea of a jaunt to the East Coast, to the beloved Atlantic Ocean. My mind is set free whenever I contemplate the seashore,  the views, the smells, the people, the food, the inns.  We decided to avoid the major urban centres like Montréal and Quebec City.  The object is St. Andrews-by-the-Sea, a place we’ve never been.

And we talked about books and philosophies, including broad subjects like the evolution of thought throughout the world – as though we could do it any justice!  There were practical matters too, the latest purchase and chatter about finances and income tax.  The transition from one subject to another had no theme or purpose.  And then we were funnelling into Gananoque, parking the car and walking across the street to the restaurant.

We are never disappointed at the Socialist Pig, the butter dripping from the grilled sandwich of brisket and cheese, a delicate vinaigrette on the fresh leafy greens, a tangy old fashioned lemonade.

Our project accomplished we turned around in the opposite direction, this time along the Ivy Lea Parkway with its panoramic views before entering Highway 401 for the clinical ride home.  We stopped along the way at my mother’s to bring her a Mocha coffee and to share the news of the day.  Then it was groceries and back to our apartment, nibbles of crudités, cheese and yes, a Nanaimo bar for dessert.  House of Cards to end the day, what will become of Francis and Claire…