It cheers me to recollect my long-standing acquaintance with the Maritimes through my late father in New Brunswick and also through my own ephemeral habituation in Nova Scotia while studying law at Dalhousie University. It carries with it a strangely spiritual sensitivity associated with the return from afar to one's beginnings. I have voyaged abroad enough in my lifetime to accept that "there ain't no ship to take you away from yourself, that you travel the suburbs of your own mind" but I am alive to the energy which is sometimes visited upon the past.
The necessity to restrict our travel to Canada - having already exhausted our non-residency for 180 days - further disentangles our exploration, part of that descent into the reputed mediocrity of exclusion. It is however a welcome qualification, more of that strengthening simplification. The narrowness of my scope was exemplified today as I drove along the winding ribbon of highway from our small town into the city.
In the distance I saw the bulging summer clouds. The smooth highway tranquillized the vehicle. The undersides of the leaves in the wind and the swaying crops in the cornfields echoed the hot temperature and tumult of summer. I still glowed slightly from my earlier bicycle ride on the old railway line. The distillation of my strength was complete.