Sitting on Brother Andrew’s sofa after another sound sleep, deep into my second cup of coffee, I realize that I’m recovering from months of low- to high-grade anxiety. I have little to do next week, as I don’t take possession of the new house until 8 September, so I can fart about with stupid stuff like updating my bus pass and ordering new cheques — while acknowledging that only Olde Phartes still use cheques. (They’re handy for major money moves like paying the contractor who just repaired your foundation.)
Once east of Toronto and heading through Frontenac County on the 401, I was struck by how different the landscape is from the inter-lakes region of southwest Ontario. The massed trees are darker and greyer, due to the prevalence of conifers in the mix and the lack of broadleaf hardwoods like walnut, chestnut, hickory, sycamore and the larger species of oak. The rocks and soil are greyer, too, and the fields are stony — Frontenac is a salient of Canadian Shield that extends to Lake Ontario, separating the Ottawa Valley from the rest of the province.
It’s not the smiling, fertile countryside of Wellington and Perth counties, where the farmers are millionaires despite being deep in perpetual debt, but it’s home.
Incidentally, now that I’m back on my native heath, my hay-fever is backing off. When I got up today, my nose wasn’t even itchy, let alone dripping, and I’m not coughing so badly.