Feliz otoño:
Maybe it is the winding down of Autumn in the mountains, or the incessant dropping of nature’s majesty signaling the foreboding of winter……. or the re-appearance of our Route 103, clearly visible over the ridge after its total invisibility during the leaf months of April thru October……. but I am finding myself, inexplicably, at a relative loss for words this week. Not total mind you…. just relatively.
So- back to the basics…. THIS I what I learned this week:
It takes about eight hours to mix two studio recordings…and is harder than it seems.
The Queen lives…. she has reappeared after her month long Cider Daze absence……and is back digging up the yard.
There is almost nothing better than a Sunday night family dinner at our beloved East…with the Nave.
Marty, the Retired Vet, cross between Mitch Miller and Burl Ives (much dated folkie reference) ……Bull Goose Curmudgeon -lives on a magnificent quarry outside Chester…. a long overdue visit.
Going to Quebec, which we had considered doing again this week, is still hard to figure out…clearly, with great lodging prices available, the Canucks are eager to let you in……but not so clear the US Border-Plaque Busters, are all that willing to let you back…
Number two granddaughter, Sloane Michael, turned a hard-to- believe three years old this week.
When all else fails, we head to the Northeast Kingdom (yes, that a real thing) for an anti- tourisme- leaf peeing adventure.…which we did for the past three days. Had the usual Kingdom suspect highlights: one breathtaking cornucopia of color after another, bumping over a hundred sacred dirt road highways only found in remote Vermont, deep northern lakes surrounded by the bounty of Autumn’s plate of hues, possibly the worlds best fried chicken dinner at Martha’s Diner in Coventry, the splendid Boulder Beach in the Green Mountain National Forest, the requisite drive- by at our old digs and stomping ground in Groton, the majesty of mist driven, early morning at Island Pond, hip downtown Newport on the American shore of Lake Mempheregog, the secret Amish lost community (and its baked goods) in historic Brownington, the lovely deep autumn beauty of Lake Willoughby…..piddling all over the great kingdom from our little airbnb shack in someone’s backyard in tiny Nurk (Newark) Vermont…..
All too good to be true….too real to be fake……too much too early…………too, too, too……
And the rest…. well…. every picture tells a story…so take a look…
Love and joy to the world……. Tired Papi
