Reconnecting at summer's end
Sep. 9th, 2002 10:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beetigerI spent the weekend up in a sweet little house just on the edge of nowhere, in Vermont. We’d paid some insane amount of money at a service auction last spring for the privilege of borrowing a friend’s vacation place on a weekend he wasn’t using it, and the overlap between weekends he wasn’t using it and weekends we could get away finally arrived.
Strangely, I enjoyed the drive up, having insisted that I would do it. Bard had offered to do the driving as he always does, and I usually let him, but I wasn’t feeling like a passenger, somehow. Too much of my life feels like getting driven around lately, I suppose. We went from interstate highway to regional roads to roads which didn’t have pavement on them to a “road” that was really tire tracks dug into the edge of a meadow, blocked off by a little metal gate with a combination lock.
Paul’s done a lot to modernize the house, having put in a modern and functional kitchen and making the wiring all legal. He’s obviously still working on it; things like the fact that the curtains are still tacked to the windows make that clear. We cooked most of our meals there with what turned out to be a very well-designed plan, risotto and blueberry pancakes, pasta salad and polenta stew in the crockpot, and apple pie pulled out of the freezer from last season’s harvest. Cooking together with someone I love is one of my life’s simple pleasures.
But the real pleasure of the place was the privacy in the middle of nature. There’s a shower on the back porch, and I found it an exquisite indulgence to be able to shower outdoors with a view of the Green Mountains. And the place is on hundreds of acres of woods, or so we were told, though after the little path past the pond, the forest was dense enough that we felt pretty solitary in the first flat place big enough to put down a blanket that we found. After getting up in a happy daze we had a bit of trouble finding our way back, even with a compass. I’m not really a wilderness expert, even if I love the woods in a romantic kind of way. I’m embarrassed to admit I can’t really identify most of the plants either, even in what is really my local area.
We spent the better part of Saturday hiking a little section of the Appalachian Trail, which although not extremely solitary was not busy at all. I felt a little silly next to the few human mountain-lions we passed, all poles and determination, leaping from rock to rock past me while I trundled along. I’m not in the best shape I’ve ever been in, though I’ve been in much worse shape as well, and I could definitely feel the five miles of ups and downs by the time we got back. It felt good, though, and reminded me that I need to do trail walking much more regularly.
It felt almost obligatory to do a little bit of outlet shopping, since we were in the Manchester area, which has quite a bit of it. But I can’t get into high fashion, even though I really ought to buy a new suit for job-hunting or something. My purchases ended up consisting of a variety of strange kitchen supplies, a bunch of random New Age music cassettes I found for a dollar apiece, and a large collection of bizarre socks.
I feel so good that I was successful in getting out of the worries in my head for a few days, to really focus on me and Bard and some of the reasons I’ve chosen to spend my life in his company. Call me shallow, call me silly, call me a Pollyanna, if you must. There are a lot of times I’m aching to change the world, and even a few when I’m working toward it. But sometimes, waking up smiling is enough of a goal.
Strangely, I enjoyed the drive up, having insisted that I would do it. Bard had offered to do the driving as he always does, and I usually let him, but I wasn’t feeling like a passenger, somehow. Too much of my life feels like getting driven around lately, I suppose. We went from interstate highway to regional roads to roads which didn’t have pavement on them to a “road” that was really tire tracks dug into the edge of a meadow, blocked off by a little metal gate with a combination lock.
Paul’s done a lot to modernize the house, having put in a modern and functional kitchen and making the wiring all legal. He’s obviously still working on it; things like the fact that the curtains are still tacked to the windows make that clear. We cooked most of our meals there with what turned out to be a very well-designed plan, risotto and blueberry pancakes, pasta salad and polenta stew in the crockpot, and apple pie pulled out of the freezer from last season’s harvest. Cooking together with someone I love is one of my life’s simple pleasures.
But the real pleasure of the place was the privacy in the middle of nature. There’s a shower on the back porch, and I found it an exquisite indulgence to be able to shower outdoors with a view of the Green Mountains. And the place is on hundreds of acres of woods, or so we were told, though after the little path past the pond, the forest was dense enough that we felt pretty solitary in the first flat place big enough to put down a blanket that we found. After getting up in a happy daze we had a bit of trouble finding our way back, even with a compass. I’m not really a wilderness expert, even if I love the woods in a romantic kind of way. I’m embarrassed to admit I can’t really identify most of the plants either, even in what is really my local area.
We spent the better part of Saturday hiking a little section of the Appalachian Trail, which although not extremely solitary was not busy at all. I felt a little silly next to the few human mountain-lions we passed, all poles and determination, leaping from rock to rock past me while I trundled along. I’m not in the best shape I’ve ever been in, though I’ve been in much worse shape as well, and I could definitely feel the five miles of ups and downs by the time we got back. It felt good, though, and reminded me that I need to do trail walking much more regularly.
It felt almost obligatory to do a little bit of outlet shopping, since we were in the Manchester area, which has quite a bit of it. But I can’t get into high fashion, even though I really ought to buy a new suit for job-hunting or something. My purchases ended up consisting of a variety of strange kitchen supplies, a bunch of random New Age music cassettes I found for a dollar apiece, and a large collection of bizarre socks.
I feel so good that I was successful in getting out of the worries in my head for a few days, to really focus on me and Bard and some of the reasons I’ve chosen to spend my life in his company. Call me shallow, call me silly, call me a Pollyanna, if you must. There are a lot of times I’m aching to change the world, and even a few when I’m working toward it. But sometimes, waking up smiling is enough of a goal.
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Hiking through Harriman
Date: 2002-09-09 12:07 pm (UTC)Re: Hiking through Harriman
Date: 2002-09-09 12:23 pm (UTC)Re: Hiking through Harriman
chris, seriously debating a blood test
ps - green with envy over cabin... must. not. move. to Vermont. right. now. winter. coming....