Hibernation Preparation

If I understand the process correctly the hibernating beast customarily gorges itself then retires to an underground den to sleep it off. We’ve succeeded today to accomplish the pre-requisite. No doubt the soporific consequence shall soon enforce its natural withdrawal from society. Until then I am practicing sitting high jumps and wall ping pong from the effect of two cups of some very strong coffee. And – more importantly – we’ve begun the “Season“, a festivity now more apt as a strictly social event than a religious one.

I was prompted this morning to engage in the festive mechanics of Christmas when I received my first Christmas email from a gentleman who historically has initiated the ceremony.  No doubt he understood the significance of December 1st  – which oddly enough was repeated within hours in an email from another friend who even went so far as to compose a poem entitled, “T’was a month before Christmas!

As dynamic and exhilarating as those preambles may have been, the real treat today was an elaborate breakfast prepared by His Lordship. There must be some lumberjack or equally manly name for the breakfast we had! I’m talking pancakes, breakfast sausage, bangers, bacon and eggs. Naturally a dab of butter and a splash of maple syrup made an appearance. For whatever reason (and come to think of it, here’s another of those serendipitous moments I mentioned earlier) last night I had been dreaming about such a wintry breakfast as pancakes and bacon. Upon awakening I proposed we go to Antrim Truck Stop in Arnprior for some pancakes and all that that entails but the idea was met with disinterest.

Yet within moments the eye-squinting thought of making an early morning visit to the grocery store overtook us! The weather besides was miserable, having only the courtesy to rain (not snow). The venture at the grocery store ended involving more than bacon and eggs. But we were soon back home, accompanied by Handel’s Water Music Suite and the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields with Sir Neville Marriner.  What could possibly afford a more suitable distraction to the tantilizing aroma which subsequently wafted from the kitchen!

When at last we tucked in at table the conversation suddenly evaporated. The multitude of items on the plate demanded the most careful attention when constructing some and setting others in queue. Then the business of consumption and oo-ing and ah-ing and generally growling and groaning in alternate expressions of supreme happiness. The entire affair was reminiscent of the springtime visits we have usually made – but missed this year because of the pandemic – to the maple syrup country resorts.