Wintry day

A vestige of snow encrusted the ground this morning. It was just enough to delay our constitutional bicycle ride, our expiation of all that has plagued us from our past, the white flakes crystallizing the future. The cold wind rattled the few remaining leaves on the already naked boughs of the solitary frigid trees.

What have I to contemplate while waiting for the past to go?

The out-of-sight prospects narrow as the north wind settles upon us. We heat ourselves now! The absurd dilemma of not having a winter wardrobe! Yet in other respects we’ve escaped the immediate quandary of the present. We are no longer strangers – foreigners – in another land. Nor am I gripped by the need to preserve myself. The toxic condition of America conveniently repels our renewed acquaintance. Everyone with whom I speak is consumed by the anticipated result of the upcoming US presidential election. There swirls brash and discordant ambitions on both sides. The division is apparently novel or at least broader.

Credit Photographer: Jack McConnell:

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