What seems to have been only days ago I marvelled at the precipitous transition from the short month of February to the long month of March. And now here we are already approaching the final day of March.  In our own springtime fashion we have joined the parade of Canada geese who purposively distinguish themselves in clamorous congregations along the shore of the Mississippi River and rampantly gliding overhead or across the distant farmlands.

Meanwhile the bullying tactics of foreign leaders continue to violate the hope for world peace. And, less egregiously, neighbours are returning home from their winter jaunts down south. Soon the furrowing and seeding of the fields by farmers will commence, enabling the magic of agriculture for another year. For our part, yesterday we initiated the customary seasonal habit of lounging in the glorious sunshine on the deck looking upriver. The afternoon heat was astonishing. The black plastic lounge chairs have survived the winter bluster of ice and snow. It is one of my admitted pleasures to have immediate access to such comfortable and utilitarian resort.

In what I am certain is an attempt by me to rationalize myself – that is, to elevate my indulgences and indolence to some measure of respectable propriety – I am already contemplating nearby venues we might visit as the spring, summer and fall unfold. Interrupting this frivolity is the gravity of my decomposition which is increasingly evident – all those things characterized by one’s physician as merely products of old age, things to get accustomed to, things to learn to live with, for which no surgery is recommended, just stretches. The only small but noticeable medical improvement I’ve had (apart from losing 30 – 40 pounds on Ozempic) is the unanticipated advantage of having shifted from Tylenol Arthritis Pain 650 mg to Tylenol Regular Strength 325 mg. I have no idea why it might work better, but it does.

Among our favourite local summer jaunts  – where we may travel by automobile – is the Ivy Lea Club on the St. Lawrence River, Katarina’s Coffee Shop in Prescott, the JW Marriott Hotel on Lake Rosseau in Muskoka, the former Seigneury Club (Montebello) in Québec; and, just yesterday after recalling that I hold a marine licence to operate a pleasure craft, I am contemplating boating on nearby White Lake.

The Seigniory Club (or Seigneury Club) was an exclusive private club operating from 1930 to 1970 in Montebello, Quebec, housed in what is now the Fairmont Le Château Montebello. Built in just four months using over 10,000 red cedar logs, it was a getaway for business elites and politicians before becoming a public hotel. It remains known as the world’s largest log cabin resort.

Somewhat more adventurously there is the possibility of a train ride from Smiths Falls or Ottawa to l’Hotel Reine Élizabeth in downtown Montreal. This proposal is an acknowledgment of my mobility incapacity while at the same time offering a swimming pool, sauna and spa treatments, plus extraordinary views from the Fairmont Gold accommodations.

This is all part of the ardour that is springtime in Canada. It is perhaps more momentous for me this year after having endured a prolonged native winter without a southern abbreviation. Notwithstanding the limitation, we have no regrets. Getting older is in addition to whatever political aversions proliferate. And, as modest as my venture proposals may be, they reflect a correspondence with my current state of affairs – which, in itself, is in my estimate a clever adaptation. Meanwhile I have my tricycle and my Optiq, two of my most convenient diversions.