“Yes, Maupeou, pucker those sinister brows of thine, and peer out on it with thy malign rat-eyes: it is a questionable case. Sure only that man is mortal; that with the life of one mortal snaps irrevocably the wonderfulest talisman, and all Dubarrydom rushes off, with tumult, into infinite Space; and ye, as subterranean Apparitions are wont, vanish utterly,—leaving only a smell of sulphur!
“For indeed it is well said, ‘in every object there is inexhaustible meaning; the eye sees in it what the eye brings means of seeing.’ ”
Excerpt From
The French Revolution
by Thomas Carlyle
Janice is from New York. That at least is the licence plate on her vehicle. When I returned from having the car washed this morning I was dismayed to see a car parked in the space I have used almost daily for the past three months. Janice was just getting out of her car and saw me. In her usual forceful manner she recognized me and said, “I will move my car. I know you like this spot.” And she did. I was alarmed that I didn’t pretend to object. But her recognition and my resolve were apparent.
Perhaps I should explain. Janice lives on the same floor (3rd) as do we. We met her and her yappy little dog Hope months ago shortly after our arrival her. Our initial hallway conference involved a common objection to the failure of the regime to repair the third floor clothes washer, obliging us to use the 2nd, 1st or 4th floor appliance instead. We related that we were renting our unit for the winter. She informed us at that time that she owned a unit; and, that she as well was sojourning here until April. Upon my asking she said she was involved in “private finance” or some such obscure endeavour – though pointedly since then we’ve seen no evidence whatsoever of that occupation other than an openness and directness which hints at intellectual and managerial skill – demonstrably repeated this morning in the parking spot incident (for which I will be certain to acknowledge my thanks when I next see her). One last thing: at our first encounter beside the elevator, she remarked, “We have to get together sometime!” We’ve never pursued the proposal but I must confess I have lingering curiosity about her. She is not an old woman; rather middle-aged at the outside. I’ve since seen her with a girlfriend (to whom I was introduced) when they were headed out for a bicycle ride. It seems peculiar to me that someone Janice’s age is either not working; or, if working, is appearing to take this length of time “vacationing” on Hilton Head Island. It is possible she works from the apartment but she has never given any indication of doing that; her absorption such as I know it appears to be strictly laundry and walking her little dog Hope (who is slowly becoming friendlier and less yappy with me).
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Meanwhile – listening to George Frideric Handel’s opera aria “Da Tempeste il Legno Infranto” – I am struggling with whether or not to go bicycling. The temperature has dropped by ten degrees from yesterday’s high of 76°F though the wind is favourably from the east which means I can fly with the wind at my back and the sun in my face from Coligny Beach Park to Sea Pines Beach Club. It is for me a seriously inviting anticipation! One, by the way, I am not likely to avoid pursuing. Today is February 26th which means we’re precipitously close to March whence begins our equally steady decline here. Though I have adored our time here this year I am as usual pleased to contemplate a return to our beloved Canada and especially the charming Town of Almonte which I count at the apex of my enhancing life experiences along with the love of my life.
Post Scriptum
Not only did I fulfill my quite intentional objective of gratitude with Janice (with whom I chatted serendipitously mid-afternoon when parking my bike); I bicycled as earlier projected. The bicycling experience was divine for I did indeed sail effortlessly the full length of the vast open beach. Low tide was at 10:55 AM and the wind was directly from the east at a speed in excess of 18 km/h. What was odd was that the traffic upon the beach was markedly diminished from yesterday as though the bit of cloud and lower temps worked like a toxic poison.
So manifestly lubricating was the wind upon my return from Coligny Beach Park that, after my customary pause at Sea Pines Beach Club to gather my strength, I ventured to prolong myself by the pool for an hour. The sun was by that time warming significantly and once again I felt that much cherished burnish upon my face.
