It is perfectly lamentable that I so look forward to a day unblemished by obligation of the least constraint. Certainly there is nothing I do which qualifies as either weighty or extraordinary. Yet there is a private distaste I harbour for anything engaging before noon. It is a manifestly disruptive assignment which enforces the morning ablutions and matutinal nutrition by unmitigated preparation. What a stoic beginning to a day! What a catastrophic alert to life’s unfettered resources! Today by contrast was void of any such purposeful alignment. Instead I leisurely contemplated the narrow shard of toxic sunlight escaping the end of the bedroom draperies. Repeated insights of this tell-all nature have over time insinuated my awakening capacity of this gentle nature – none of this business of clock radio alarms or iPhones propelling some preposterous Looney Tune concoction over the air waves!
Removal from the shadow of compulsion does not however eliminate one’s unwitting recollections of the past. Strangely it is both the past and the future which excite the corpuscles. Engineering a bright start to the day is as much about interior decoration as culinary nutrition. Though the start of the day may not require performance it does nonetheless work better if off to an inspiring beginning! Logistically the alignment of the past with the projected route of the future is axiomatic. It clarifies the air to have a healthful commencement of the day – perhaps something uplifting like fresh fruit and strong coffee. Never must the consumption be disturbed by the anxiety of commitment. Instead a measured absorption of the morning missives.
It was in this poetic mood this morning that I set out upon my bicycle along the former railway right-of-way bordering Coleman’s Island. The sun was yet slanted from the east overtop the corridor of trees through which I soared almost noiselessly on the flattened gravel. The heat was already unmistakable but certainly tolerable in the shade. There were noticeably fewer pedestrians and cyclists upon the path.
The nexus of thought and refreshment is never entirely predictable. Initially I hadn’t any appetite this morning. In fact the only thing I had was a coffee before going for my bike ride. Upon my return – and after succumbing to that peculiar exhaustion which attends excessive heat – I put on the nosebag for what was to have been last evening’s meal. I confess too that I augmented the delectation with toasted 9-grain bread and butter. And perhaps there was a butter tart in the subsequent mix! What roaring lack of discipline! Small wonder this evening’s repast was confined to a broth of vegetable swirls and fresh squeezed lemon juice.