Greetings fellow travelers:
“I felt in need of a long pilgrimage, so I sat still for three days”…………………………………………………………………….KABIR
“BLT on toast-
the rabbi takes his first bite,
then……… the lightning bolt”…………………………………………………………………………………………………..Haikus for Jews
“ Long may you run, with your (chrome) heart shining in the sun, long may your run”……………………Neil Young (for Bob)
The Blog Man, The Blogster, the Blog-a Rama…is back. Were you wondering? Did you wake up on Sunday …and say “what the F….”? Well- no worries, just behind the eight ball after a busy week of leaf trippin’ and assorted mountain doings.
On the home stretch of our time in the mountains foe this year….three weeks and counting….and the mental fog is setting in. The leaves are tumbling off the trees, the nights are freezing (high of 45 yesterday), the POND is shrinking to nothingness….and the heartland harkens……
After the rumble of Cider Daze faded to a whisper last weekend, we spent a few days recovering- watching endless baseball post season (what happened to The Sox and The Tribe?)- and regaining Yankee-hating roots (Stu)…and finding a series of home improvement projects and pick up purchases to obsess about (Jenn).
But Tuesday dawned bright and weirdly hot….and off we set for the last of our Fall Outings- up to the Champlain Islands for our annual post peak sojourn. Despite thinking that we had peaked on colors (no tripping involved)- we were pleasantly shocked to see the peak in full regalia in many places on our journey (which has amazingly continued here in the mountains for yet another week-maybe we skip stick season this year? ) A benefit of the fake global warming?.
We have stayed in the same little cottage in Grand Isle for over ten years now….never making a reservation, but calling the man when we are sitting on the road by his sign (that is how we first found the place, and we hate to mes with Juju-(sort of like a ballplayer on a winning streak not changing his underwear for three weeks)…but this year to Alan’s amazement, we called on the way there- a FULL two hours in advance. So we got to the cottage, where it was almost 80 degrees in mid-October , and took off for an Island ramble. The Islands are a very different beast , even in northern climes, operating on some version of “Island time”….so we adapted…doing little or nothing for three days. Blue, cloudless skies, warm days, cool nights, sunsets and endless driving in circles around the four tiny interconnected islands that comprise the chain….best described as Scenic and Fragrant (did I mention the popularity of dairy farming in the area?). We once again hit the St. Anne Shrine for spiritual boosts, found a little BARBQ smoke house in the middle of nowhere to take out supper. ….and had a number of pack-naps (see Stu and Lucy Sprawl to oblivion)
We returned home on Thursday afternoon with a giant bag of unbelievably peak apples, a stinking Lucy (rolled in every pile of cowshit she could find) and bevy of photos (I apologize in advance for the deluge). Our friend Marianne stayed at the house while we were gone (“how much for the giant bed in the guest room”, she queried) and to our delight our neurotic cats had limited themselves to peeing in the litter box-after several recent trips away in which they decided that the laundry basket was preferable). Spent Friday catching up; me to the gym and errands/work, Jenn to look at an assortment of pickup trucks and attending to slight tweaking on home improvement projects.
Saturday morning again dawned with another heat wave (Donald?)..and we packed and set off down to the Woodstock area of New York to my very old friends Ed and Stephanie’s (interpret “very old” as you wish) for a weekend reunion of my childhood Bronx friends- several of whom I’ve known over 60 years from the cradling days. Out of the BIG TEN of our childhood gang (think Sharks and Jets), we had six of us and our significant others (one has passed on, one is ill, the other two semi-nuts) which included two of the guys wives, who were also part of childhood pack. We grew up as stickball legends on the streets of New York (typically achieving wining margins of 105 to 7 –or such) and morphed into a very young championship level traveling softball team on the asphalt playgrounds all over the city (THE HAWKS). In between, we managed to stay mostly out of jail through the grace of a higher power, our hardnosed parents and our late benefactor, Bob, who passed last spring. We raised many glasses to our two departed friends (Bob and Bobby G. ), and humored ourselves with many mean-streets story- legends (the wives retreated to the safety of the kitchen while we held forth on the deck on a beautiful Saturday afternoon). We laughed, we cried, we smoked Cubans and ate prodigious amounts of Italian deli spreads and sugared delights from the Bronx bakeries. It was kind of what happens when you start with …”two Wiseguys, two shanty Irish , a Cop and a Yid walk into a bar”…..). It had been 40 or so years since were in the same place, and a national holiday for us to re-gather in our semi-declining years. I heard tales that I had not thought of (for good reason) in many decades. On Sunday, my friend Eddie (who looked like Marlon Brando when we were kids and looks like a much later Brando now) led us in homegrown making of the Mozzarelle, which only cemented the total peculiarity of the experience (a total Bronx thing)
Frankly, how lucky can you be to get to do this? Suffice it say, I have undying love for Mikie, Eddie, Eddie, Ricky and Curry….an despite the distances, always will.
While there, Jenn and I fit in a trip to the all-night Diner (a classic) for late night breakfast and spent the night in FULL-SIZED bed in a BnB….which meant Jenn and I had half of the bed and Lucy the other half…so sleepless in Stone Ridge was our theme. We left to the chants of “same time next year”, which would be beyond amazing if it comes to pass.
Back on the ranch now, and preparing to spend a work day getting the property ready for exodus….what a week in the mountains….so be well, my friends and semi-friends…and pick up as many wooden nickels as you can.
Stubert
