For many years – as I have only lately come to realize – I have unwittingly disparaged those among us who are “homebodies”; that is, a person who likes to stay at home, especially one who is perceived to be unadventurous. Very often the proclivity is engendered by marriage, child birth or some other commonly recognized domestic situation which translates the erstwhile vagabond or brassy socialite to stay-at-home mom or dad. Within this newly acquired corralling there is regularly sustained at least some feature of the wayfarer, whether tobacco, alcohol or legal cannabis.

Yet as much as I am intellecutally persuaded and stimulated by nefarious activity, I have found it impossible today to enlarge upon the already inexpressible scene that is all about me. In an instant the clouds have evaporated, leaving a dome of endless azure sky touching every horizon. The river water is blue and choppy from the forceful though balmy breeze. Meanwhile I fortuitously drove upon the picturesque Appleton Side Road, landau roof and windows open, absorbing the late summer warmth, inwardly thankful for the supreme bliss.

The subject of travel arose in the underground parking lot upon my return.  My neighbours and I acquainted one another with our custom for winter sojourn. For the first time in a decade I am inclined to alter or reconfigure the model. Suddenly the prospect of remaining in situ for more time is passably tolerable!  It is an adventure of its own; and, one about which I intend to learn more. Already I have noticed my favourable reaction to the increased and reunited acquaintances.