Folic and Furuncles

(29th) Lazy Saturday, a few excursions in the rain before the all-Blue Champions League Final... as we come upon a month in Canada and only now the plans for re-opening coming into focus...

(31st) Leafs lose, blowing a 3-1 series lead again. Not even a pandemic, etc.  Plans still forming, nicely in time for the birthday again.  Cape Split, OT, SC, Symposium.  The 5th also in tune, as is the return to the cottage and the Canada Day in Moncton.  

Vitamins purchased and the leap to be taken without insurance.  The nose still red being self-treated by topical creams that may not be fit for purpose.  And yet.  One month in Canada, as the darlingmost individual - pillow, bowl of soup, etc. - beside reads the Chill Factor, waiting...

All of the first month so good, still friends, her ability to let you come to decisions, so “on point”.  The comments and family facial expressions on the Bluff - when you are born you have all the questions, when dead all the answers.  Not true but funny, and better when you mistook the girl’s Q about what is play dough made of as referring to Plato.  Things you can’t make up or conjur.  The Delft v. Slumber and other considerations tonight?  Is there a right answer to the randomness and how much should it be dwelled upon. At any rate, trust and optimism in a straightforward outcome remain high.  Harold be thy name, thy Willard be done, Given this day...

V-Day

Blue skies as you return to the harbour, past the old stomping grounds to find half-finished docks full up.  The wind coming in a challenge, but vaccinated Kevin’s assistance proves key.

Sitting waiting to cook steak with this wonderful Lebanese wine in glorious sunshine.  What is to come always the question.  The work continues to flow despite it all, with yet no certainty of the next case on the horizon.  Travel restrictions continuing to frustrate.  As you ponder the real estate choices not taken, and the clarity that this or (at most) next likely the last of the SC summers.  

Why do you like sailing comes the question, and the answer is readily present yet articulately elusive.  The meditative aspect, the ever-changing tussle with the shifting winds.  The scenery and the majesty and the through line back in history. 

All a part of it.  The stories, the passage of time, too.

The writing process needs restarting, the MFA to be renewed in June 2022.  It feels right and so must follow.  Colour and light.  Dylan’s 80th, as the Irish President said, May Victory be yours.

PS. “Annoying is better than alone.”  Heh.  A reference love to return to, surely.  No doubt correct in the right context.  Time is a magnificent, tempering beast.  The beauty in Good Will Hunting last night, how the scenes play out.  Then learning how many iterations it took to get... good.  You have to write, and all the more so from experience.  Covid gave you an extra year to get ahead of yourself, for year 2.  I find I’m looking forward to it... as this Lebanese Prieure goes down a treat.  

Remember?

End Times

Day 14.  All’s well that ends well, just a shame there shall be no Europa final.  Alas.  Taken all in all, hard to complain about the past weeks, the slow assimilation, the solving of the puzzle, the emergence into the sunshine and the sight of the Southern Cross under sail, once more.

Strange days, perceptions, observances, little things that bring a smile.  “Pop, what is that?”  The pictures at SDA on the Sabbath, as we are mistaken for cousin Lisa.  The husband bring Canada cold at Woodside.  The donation centre and fresh lobster.  The departure code word yellow. The apocryphal chalk call to pick up the Bible... I like that, she says.

At the meditation rock today, a sensation of peace.  The desire to get back to the writing, not yet but soon, summer 2022 the perfect (re)entry point.  There will be occasion for it.  An open letter-style to the one to come as a theme?  Not out of the question.  A diary, incorporating past and present, memories not to be lost and lessons not to be forgotten. Some way to incorporate the magic of the past year into universal themes, with metaphors and turns of phrase and (above all?) wonder.  

Enough for now.  Sleep calls, the start of the work week and further explorations ahead.  Inches met, DM and JS next for a light lunch post-Point Pleasant.  Revisit this though.  One year from the return to NS last year after two months at home.  So much goodness accomplished since, my wife beside me and a new car below.  I scarce believe it.

...that serves to bewilder

 ... with a blend of notes quite unfamiliar.  The Lightfoot Brut dropped off by the MacDougalls to mark the halfway point of the quarantine with Louie’s “Robsters.”  

Fun preparation and memorable Sunday discussions about timelines and the like.  Funny to notch the priorities, PR and Covid clearance alongside an October London visit.  But on this Mother’s Day, perhaps the last before M joins that choir, our gorgeous lady is ready, and so the period of carriage soon awaits.  All is a marvel that feels as though it has been preordained, and so this too.  Leading into August 1, 2022 at that, two years out from Zanzibar, and as such it sits (decided here and now on the realization that it lands on the holiday Monday) as the natural choice for a Maritime extravaganza to replace the lost Parisian dream.  We will do that solo one day.  Pourquoi pas?  Much to be done, before the end.  Much.  This coming summer but the start.  Until Jack Mac wheels down an aisle.  Hard to believe that is more than a year away, when it has not yet been one since Zanz, but so the world turns, and so we meet it fresh.

“Keep the Spirit Going”

One week in, that’s the verdict from Willard.  Have to keep reminding myself this is not all a dream.  New restrictions mean M wouldn’t be allowed in as of Monday, so we really have pulled out another miraculous coup once again, as the NS Covid situation spirals further.  Lockdown even as we emerge in 8 more days.  But the hiking and sailing will be good, as we figure out the future.  Slowly, slowly.  As the Poul Anderson story you are reading now states, “There will be time.”

Cometh the Hour

Another in those seminal moments.  Unceasing time takes you up to and through it, the planning and scheming and hopes and worries and shopping and cleaning, all to be set aside for an arrival.  At last.  The escort did it, thanks for the guidance and support and everything.  Now to enjoy the new life, for all is different after this....