It is predicted that we shall not yet escape the winter. For 12 hours, beginning at 11:00 pm tonight, we shall endure 12 – 15 cm of snow, then the wind gusts, climbing temperatures and sunshine. The prospect for springtime weather looks more favourable thereafter. And like everything else it is all happening quickly.  We jump from one vista and sensitivity to another. We may think we have control but there isn’t the time. Neither time to ponder nor time to forego.

My vagabond friend, lately returned from the South Pacific, advised that he leaves for Florida in two weeks, then Southhampton on the Cunard line from New York City – and goodness knows where or when thereafter. And by then what will the weather be? Will we be swimming in the pool at Heron House? Or cycling along the Ottawa Valley Recreational Trail? Or munching burgers on the patio at the golf club?

The swollen river appears placid and sapphire blue. Its increased flow promises to carry its energy for miles. The shoreline has expanded to the marsh reeds, portioning the sacrament of spring, the outward sign of an inward grace. The cool evening air and the honking of the geese are testament to the already mounting late hour daylight, yet confirmation that there isn’t the time.

This afternoon during our return from the city we contemplated the changing world. How notable retailers like Eaton and Hudson Bay are gone; the inner city streets are unrecognizable; entire divisions of people have shifted to the west. But I have all I desire. My time of shopping for anything has long ago expired, apart from smalls and stockings. I cherish my mille fiori and my bespoke brass paperweight. There isn’t the time for anything further.

Amidst the declension there evolve new discoveries. Centuries ago, people staring into the midnight sky saw what they thought was real but totally miscalculated the imagery. Just as the earth was flat; or the sun revolves about the earth. And today we are threatened by attributing human characteristics to machines. But there isn’t time, neither for admission nor defiance.  What difference does it make to the way I feel in the morning? The image of the earth, like the regard of anything, changes with the perspective – whether seen up close or from afar. No matter where one is, it neither matters nor changes. There isn’t the time.