The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) can be relied upon to deliver meaningful music for a Sunday. At this time of year, it is not necessarily religious but certainly something along the empyrean line is always welcome.  Especially on a brilliantly sunny day such as today. The flat river is covered in swirls of white powder and bluish coloured mirrors bordering the sunlit shoreline. It’s cold outside and everything bespeaks ice-bound and crisp. The ribs of small trees are firmly erect against the limitless sky, a peerless azure dome.

Costumed in winter clothing (thick sweater, leather boots and silken scarves) we projected ourselves with buttoned collars along the Appleton Side Road among the barren stretching fields one of which remarkably remained emerald green beneath its thin white icing. On balance however the fields were dried and tanned colour. The western parallels of stalks and deserted bush brightly reflected the late afternoon light, reverting a corridor of contrasting illumination upon the saddened though sprinkled soil and shimmering upon the river in rosy hues.

The journey in our little Cadillac gave us time to summarize and to catch up, to confirm the incremental immediacy of our departure, while paradoxically questioning the utility of doing so. It is inescapably puzzling to remove oneself from Nature’s hibernation. Nonetheless as abrupt as the transition shall be from this ideal dormancy, we’ve already devoted ourselves to relishing the experience, looking out upon Braddock Cove from our backyard patio at Lands End, repeating our private manifesto of unity, what we’ve done for many, many years together. Indeed it is the conjugation of our spirits which vitalizes the endeavour. Though in truth the appeal lingers too of Beachside Tennis Villas, South Beach, Tower Beach Club, the Salty Dog Café, Sea Pines Beach Club, Turtle Lane and the Marriott’s Grand Ocean where it all began long ago. Seemingly by accident (though probably by force and design of our estate agent Gail Edmonds of Destination Vacation) we’re continuing our many years of exclusive residency on Hilton Head Island in the Sea Pines Resort overlooking Daufuskie Island and Calibogue Sound.  Each year our location has descended further into the privacy and exclusivity of the resort to the point where there is literally no further to go. It is a destination about which I am uncommonly assured.

Having the complacency of a phlegmatic temper is no small compliment. Indeed discovery of the once illusive disposition is entirely heartening. Nor is the recipe easily related. I presume to have the entitlement to mark the boundaries based not only upon comparison but what I confess to be a fortuitous mixture of luck and desire. Where it is we shall end our orbit in the vast universe is unknown. Yet as uncontrolled as that orbit is (at least by anything we may imagine to do) I nonetheless salute us for the decision to do what we’re doing. By what I believe to be a combined effort and contribution – and naturally with the assistance of our exceedingly accomplished estate agent – we have achieved the perfect venue for a Sunday stroll and beyond. There are indeed many mountains to be climbed, places to go, things to see.  But eventually having to make a decision is not obstructive but rather welcome. It removes the vastness of the universe from what is ultimately personal. It distills what within us is elemental. It completes what is inevitably the sphere of life, the fruition of purpose and goals, the satisfaction of a race well run. A Sunday stroll…