Gloomy Sunday

The process to invigorate myself upon our wearying return from the Florida Keys to home base unfolded after ten-thirty o’clock this morning as I soothingly withdrew from under the burdensome duvet and prepared to divest all remnant of the textured past; viz., get things ready for the purgative wash – clothing and carcass alike. My spectacles and electronic devices were sprayed and wiped; the ornament duly cleansed and brushed. The devotion doesn’t begin to capture my servitude!

The catharsis being thus dutifully completed, the ceremony of the day began in earnest. The apartment heat was lowered to 69°F; the main bedroom window and patio door set slightly ajar. After a rainy and sometimes torrential night the weather was forecasted to be fair by early afternoon.  The completion of my routine breakfast of sliced green Granny apple, steel cut oats and prunes, ham slices and American cheese nicely coincided with that timely projection. Plus the welcome arrival at noon of the next round of Tylenol Arthritis 650 mg of acetaminophen. Meanwhile I assuaged myself with Chopin and Schütz, a proper Sunday morning stimulation and a relic of my religious past.

Heinrich Schütz (German: [ʃʏt͡s]; 18 October [O.S. 8 October] 1585 – 6 November 1672) was a German composer and organist, generally regarded as the most important German composer before Johann Sebastian Bach, as well as one of the most important composers of the 17th century. He is credited with bringing the Italian style to Germany and continuing its evolution from the Renaissance into the Early Baroque. Most of his surviving music was written for the Lutheran church, primarily for the Electoral Chapel in Dresden. He wrote what is traditionally considered to be the first German opera, Dafne, performed at Torgau in 1627, the music of which has since been lost, along with nearly all of his ceremonial and theatrical scores.


When I descended from the apartment and mounted upon my bicycle the wind from the south was manifest and strong. I had forgotten to check the Tide Chart. But I rightfully reasoned that even if the tide were out (which it turns out it was), the wind was in any event too strong to face upon an inland return muffled by the sea pines and Palmetto ferns. My rental bike with one gear – and my weak knees – are no competition for even the most casual obstruction. This I soon discovered to be true when I arrived at Tower Beach.

The fine particles of sand blew high above the beach.  It would have been tortuous to recline upon the sand (as is my perpetual wont) without being stormed. I contented myself with a tactical view from a distance; and then retired to the swinging wooden benches. There I stretched and submitted to the late afternoon sunshine filtering through the boughs of the tall majestic sea pines. The unending wind in the trees sounded like crashing waves.  In the distance the roller-coaster white caps appeared as dolphins skipping across the surface. Once again in this soporific state I transpired to the ether and momentarily lost contact with life on earth.

Before leaving the boardwalk a gentleman walking his dog drifted off the beach and approached me as I stood holding my iPhone camera, directing it towards the sea.  His dog – a light brown Labradoodle – galloped towards me with friendship on his mind. Together I got my dog fix for the day! Most of the other pedestrians and cyclists whom I encountered along the bicycle paths were of advanced age.  Gone for the time being are the families of youngsters.