25 Years!

What distinguishes the past 25 years from any other period of my life is a strangely secure sense of perfection. While there is no advantage to comparison of one quarter century of one’s life to another – the mere fact of survival alone is a credit – there is however a constancy and uniformity to the past 25 years which is akin to a work of art having an endurance and feature of almost mystical superiority quite unlike a more historic account.

Without exception every detail of every moment we’ve spent together since 25 years ago today resonates with a profound undercurrent of adventure and achievement as though it were a reverie of incalculable success! We’ve already so demonstrably passed the limit of entitlement that the contemplation of anything other than fortuity and fearlessness for what may come is outrageous! I cannot imagine a greater state of well-being and strength of fabric than now prevails. Forgive the hackneyed expression, but you can’t make this stuff up!  From the beginning, from the very moment of our conjunction and alliance it has been an immeasurable flight of repeated and unfolding improvement and resource as though our constituents were pieces of a puzzle.

A reminiscence of each moment of the entire 25 years is characterized by the identical theme of conviviality and an undercurrent of unpredictable magic which time and again has uplifted both the quiet and effervescent experiences. Even what were by any other assessment unwelcome challenges miraculously translated to both beneficial and pleasingly memorable events.

Every description of relationship is inadequate to capture the delicacy and substance  of our confederacy. Ours is a strangely corporate mission of design and ambition collectively devoted to excellence in both what we sow and what we reap. Together we’ve put our shoulders to the wheel of fortune whatever it has afforded; and in my opinion with uncommon purpose. The very particles of our alliance are for me a poetic rendition of life!

A Winter Stroll by Steve Crisp