As contradiction always asserts clarity, the weather forecast is luring me into accepting that this year there will be no renunciation or other relinquish of seasonal activities just yet, with temperatures soon to be rising above thirty again and the most summery panoramic views, as to mark its determination. I’ve been around long enough to be completely familiar with these attempts of outmaneuvering and I’m well aware that any resistance is futile and doomed to lead to misery and a balance adrift, so I’d better embrace its latitude.
Ever since I happily retrieved my hankering to write, allowing sequential words to mold my imaginative daily wayfinding again, the imprint of each outlook has become of different magnitude as well, making me yearn for the kind of soul-searching that does not tolerate the distraction of outside chores. I know that, once descended to that sought-after state of mind, I will probably suffer a reverse longing, but that’s okay, there will be plenty to do in winter too.
Because we have more aerodynamically synced our current lives with our personal aspirations, Ivory and I look back on some of our previous escapades with astonishment. We now ardently hope that voluntarily participating in a châtelaine’s outlandish and rather obscene scheme to extend Christmas to twelve days, overly filled with theme-parties, loosely based on various pagan traditions that included daily excessive dinners, never served at an acceptable time because of our need to create wildly winsome online images, in hindsight lacking inner richness but generating an abrasive awkwardness instead, will be forever in our eventful past, no regrets just lessons learned.
Other universes will always linger beyond Les Pierres’ perfectly outlined but open-ended horizon, waiting for us to explore, to fathom, to glorify or simply to describe and I’m sure we will get to all of them, or some of them, just fine. But for now everything I absorb when looking around, sunsets, cows, trees and clouds, everything I have introvertedly taken for granted during this estranged summer, it’s all reassuring me this is where I should be.
Winter’s coming and I have a cat cave with my name on it.
