Bonjourno:

“With no bird singing, the mountain is yet more real” ……………………………………………………………Zen Master

“Got a good reason- for taking the easy way out, now” …………………………………………………………Lennon/McCartney

“My poop in the woods was most satisfying” …………………………………………………………………………The Queen

Floatin’ like a butterfly…. stingin’ like a Bee….as autumn continues its very slow momentum at emerging in the mountains. Still a hit or miss whether the Foliage will explode late this year, or just mutedly fade away in pastel-like solemnity…. damn drought……though there have been a few real rain soakers over the last two weeks, which has The Pond smiling again, as it has risen to only being about 2.5 feet down from its all-time record low…and…… we are having to resume cutting grass again….no climate change here…

Started the week with Sunday dinner with The Erstwhile Russian Spy and The World’s Most Beloved School Marm, which was delightful…. TQ made some form of yogic enchiladas and TWMBSM, who is always on a meditative, healing diet, still found it in her heart to create a magical dessert of some kind that somehow was still in the generally healthy realm (no ask- no tell) …………………………………………

Tuesday, we took off for our first Fall- Outing of the year…up to The Northeast Kingdom, in search of the Woodchuck Mafia. Though it was predicted to be rainy, it turned out to be quite a good day, until late when we arrived at our cottage around beautiful Lake Willoughby in Westmore, Middle-of –Nowhere…. in time for soaker – to Marysue’s little hobbit house, which is so cozily comfortable that we don’t even use the sleeping oft, opting for all three of us on a trundle bed in the central living area. We meandered our way north up the ancient Connecticut River Valley discovering a surprisingly nice hike at Tucker Mountain, where we actually made the summit for the views, a rarity for us foundlings.

Consistent with living in the (maybe) post-Covid world, not a single nearby restaurant was open early in the week, so we had to graze our way through the general store to find something to eat for dinner, which actually turned out quite good, though I could not bring myself to buy their homemade chop suey, which resembled hamburger helper, rest its soul. Wednesday was a really pleasant fall day (shorts weather for Papi) for our annual tour of The Kingdom, which took us over multiple mountain ranges to Island Pond (major woodchuck rustic), Derby (fought the powers that be to have the state’s fifth Walmart despite the furor over losing its pastoral charm), Newport (post hip renaissance north) and down to Coventry (site of the famous gigantic Phish show at an airfare base)- where we made the annual pilgrimage to the real thing -Martha’s Diner -for the US’s best fried chicken (USA today 2012)-no disappointments there as we labored with love on the nearby picnic table on the town green. Wound up the day at majestic Brownington (the historical village home of Alexander Twilight, the country’s first black physician……who knew?) for our yearly walk around the massive property. Returned back to the cottage to find no eateries yet open (supply chain, no employees, blah, blah, blah), so creatively made some form of dinner via the cooler remnants, which was pretty ok. We made a detour to Willoughby Falls (a locally well-kept secret) to check out the spawning steelhead trout, but we missed them by about five months.

Check out the massive photo gallery for the real story.

Meandered our way back and forth across the state on way home Thursday crossing two major gaps for the peakish views and on down to Rutland, with emergency dispensary stop in Middlebury, just in time for the new super-duper booster shot to ward off The Plague……………… then a mad dash back to the house to intercept the auto crash appraiser, who comes to Vermont once a month from the flatlands, before he headed back into the woodwork……mission accomplished –so may yet get my car repaired by the end of 2023.

On Friday night, The Queen went to the monthly gathering of the Lady Mount Mystics for dinner and conviviality…and to see DA Bears….….30 minutes of Mama and Da Cubs apple eating right outside the door…we don’t need no damn zoo here….

Check out those pix…and see Sloanie bike like a mermaid…. Papi bad with metaphors….

Yesterday was one of those awful, unsettling, humbling, erratic (get the picture?) days that had an unexpectedly good turn. Spent around six hours trying to deal with failed technology, failed car repairs, failed overdue work assignment….much of it on the phone with a series of beleaguered Pakistanis….finally got one thing partially working, cashed in, and got motivated to head out…..skedaddled down to Londonderry and well-kept secret Lowell Lake……where we hiked the entire lake trail (3.5) in late day majestic autumn sunlight, ending at the early 1700s graveyard……..Forest Healing….impulsively stopped on the way home at the early 1800’s Fullerton inn, in quaint Chester, for a dinner in their formal dining room….all of which significantly changed the tone and tenor of the day….

So…. enuff already……. yer killing me…. Good Shabas to all……miles to go….keep your motors running, running down the highway, lookin for adventure, take whatever comes my way……BTBW………..Love Ya’ll Neville……

Papi

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Guten Morgan:

“The fireflies’ light. How easily it goes on. How easily it goes out again.” …………………………………Chine- Jo

“From the evening breeze to this hand on my shoulder, everything has its truth” …………………. Albert Camus

“Seeking Love” Letter of the Year (From Vermont Seven Days):41 y/o loner male, formerly moderately handsome, now world weary, depressed and socially isolated——– looking for 30-50 y/o female to share time with. I’m considerate, but years of depression and self-doubt have rendered me something of a self-hating loner. Interested to hear about you and your story.      Hmmmmm……………………………………

The Greens continue to unexpectedly remain mostly Green in this extended drought year, tho hints and teases abound. Have settled into a week of mostly perfect fall days and very brisk nights……I can feel the color, but not see it…. next big rain…. for The Pond…. for The Leaves……. For The Soul……………………….

We started this week last Sunday night with a potluck dinner at some activist friends of ours………………………………… activist enough that the lady of the house at one point said “ I spit on republicans”…….so probably not going to work across the aisle, per se…..there were five couples of a certain age (mine) in a rainbow of colors….the most distracting of which was a very nice 82 year old man who was the absolute doppelganger of Gus Frigh from Breaking Bad/Better Call Saul….despite being a very kind and witty man, I was afraid of him all night….being in Vermont, every single person brought a dish that featured corn and tomatoes (last of season)…and we had bread that the Retired Postal Mensch had waited at the Woodstock Fahmers Mahket for 4 hours to get….every person aside from us had read the NY Times start to finish that morning…whilst I was reading a  steamy detective novel…..all quite stimulating…

My stunted work life took a turn while doing a 4 hour on-line live training session this week on some new Zoomish platform with almost three hundred people…I did put on a nice shirt along with my uniform of lounge pants and sweat socks…. was everybody wearing lounge pants out of sight? ………………………………Still?

Spent hours this week trying to find someone to fix my injured auto body…. best I could do was some guy telling me I could leave my car with him for three weeks and he could then probably get it done by mid-November vs. next March……this guy also featured a major junk yard and a snarling dog outside his door and………… never took his feet off his desk while we talked…there were many guns mounted on the wall……car care in Vermont….

Big birthday week…for Jenn, Sister Jane, Ry and Lauren…all in 2 days……HB to all………………

I broke down this week, after a month of some form of sciatica and related countless home remedies, and got a message. The Masseuse in the Trailer is not up to it right now, so went up to our friend Linda’s abode, where a host of feral young adults coalesce. One of them happens to be a licensed massager. So picture this—-walk in to have a message with a stunning and underdressed 25 y/o woman…………and start thinking it would be good if Phil were here to see this………… I already had my silent mantra ready in the event of any overstimulation, but upon arriving found that I has recently sat in something that smelled like poop, so had to run into the bathroom and clean my inner and outer garments, to avoid total smelly diaper embarrassment. KS, the massager, is really quite good, but 25 and, thus, somewhat distractible…..so she had to refrain from digging deep into the problem gluts because (I later learned upon inquiry) at some point she apparently had a vison of sailboats, which intuitively led her elsewhere (these are her exact words)….when I was done, dressed and emerged…..the whole kabob of ferals was outside to greet me and my washed out underwear. It’s possible this is too much for gentleman of my years….

For The Queens big day on Thursday, I had a shakily-conceived plan for fanciful takeout, but when time came …had two local places tell me they were “too busy for takeout” …is this really a thing????…..the whole supply chain-understaffed scenario has lost it sheen with me…..so- zipped down to the Wallingford to see Mr. Sal and his red gravy extravaganza……….for gifts, got her a Retro, a Currently Fashionable and a Future……..quiet evening in the mountains….

So, Saturday was actually the birthday extravaganza. After a quick stop to exchange insults with The Dumpmaster and his cronies, we picked up an unparalleled Turkey Town grinder from Curmudgeon Bob at Baba’s and had the Ludlow Cemetery lunch overlooking the reservoir and then a hike…. then meandered our way up to tiny Reading to the Hall Art Foundation- which is a middle of nowhere relation to MOMA and has galleries in New York, London, Paris and Nowhere, Vermont. These rich folk bought a zillion acres back in the 80s and turned all the old barns into spanking new state of the art galleries, along with acres of grounds with statuary. For this season, thy were featuring the sublime, bucolic water colors of the still-painting, 95 y/o Lois Dodd- set against the tyranny, fright and anger of the Golem-like woks of Leon Golub. Serene-Intense………………Lucy was allowed in for the birthday and is becoming quite the art hound. We finished off our day out with birthday-dinner at the Maple Kitchen…….high up on the mountain access road to the once world renowned Ascutney Ski Area….which has fallen into disrepair but still hosts a colony of enthusiasts…local Roast Duckling, Butternut Squash Ravioli, Harvest Salad and a decadent Lemon- Raspberry cake- all concocted by an imported Moroccan chef.

And that’s about all I got. The Erstwhile Russian Spy and the Worlds’ Most Beloved School Marm are coming for dinner tonight, and we are off this week to the Northeast Kingdom for our first fall-outing of this year….

The harder they come, the harder they fall…. for one and all…..

Stuber

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Happy Hallmark- Grandparents Day:

“I pack no provisions for my long journey- entering emptiness under the midnight moon” …………….Chinese Sage

“I exist as I am, that is enough” ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………Walt Whitman

“We’re on a Mission from God” ……………………………………………………………………………………………………Jake and Elrod Blues

A thumb goes up; a car goes…. by It’s nearly 1 AM and here am I………………… Hitchin’ a ride…………………………. Well, it’s been a busy week here in Mt. Holly- Begone, our home town (sometimes)……Started the week in recovery from a 48-hour experience with a sweet 2-year-old and it was suddenly very quiet here on Monday. Had a neat threesome (not that- get yer mind out da gutter) at Folk Club that night- rainy and nasty and no one else showed up, but got to spontaneously combust with Claudine and Dennis, who are both mighty musicales, so all I had to do was keep da beat……. boom, chuck…boom, chuck…. boom, chuck……

Speaking of rain, we had out first real soak since spring with two days of yuck……but, ah (De Doova) ……The Pond rose a foot …leaving only a minor crater in our yard…….and setting off a small seismic shift in foliage…may yet change colors this year….

The Queen (the remaining one that is….so long to the mighty one) had asked me to block off a day this week and we scadoodled down across the state line to Williamstown, Mass….the quaint home of lovely, bucolic Williams College…for a day of art….School had just started up, so we grabbed an outside table on the street to watch the co-eds do their mating rituals , while feasting on a some very real-deal Mexican chow…again marveling at the diversity that exists once you leave the Tidy-Whitey of the Greens  (can’t believe I strung those words together)…….

From there…………… is was on to the college’s museum- which allowed Lucy to tour the galleries with us………….thinking she was a service dog because of her bright orange harness…who are we to disagree…and she LOVED the floor sculptures….cool little museum…then around the town to the bull- goose- magnificence of The Clark Art Institute …which is a like a lil’ Louvre in the midst of the Berkshires…..and was featuring a once in century retrospective of Rodin….it was almost like being at the Musee Rodin a’ Paris…..almost….not quite……the rest of the Institute houses what may be the finest collection of classic Europa art I have seen this side of The Pond (not ours, THE BIG ONE)….

After such a fine day, the next day was marred by  my having my first car crash in years- albeit a fender bender….woman turns in front of me, decides to stop turn-hits her brakes half way through…I role into her….my front, her back, my fault……no like….no like…..stopped at a body shop in Root-land to get an idea of what it would be for self-pay…and for a few small scratches/dents and a broken headlight….around $3400….whoa, is this the twin of Big Pharma or what….and…..they can put me on the calendar for late January-maybe……we have transformed to bizarre….

After a day of brooding about the whole car mess we hopped over to the mountain ville pf Shrewsbury on Friday night for a Harvest Moon Walk with the local landed gentry………. picture a group of woman who came to Vermont to commune in the 60s and stayed……………. with long gray braided hair…. talking moon cycles… Lucy loved it….and there was homemade pies and ice cream on the porch of a circa 1802 beauty as reward…plus a big ol’ red moon over the hillside……………. I came home and got out the I-Ching……

Followed that up with a drive and walk on a picture perfect Saturday afternoon…stopping at the Golden Honey Festival in Proctorsville…one of 4,977 Fall festivals in Central Vermont….schmoozed, snacked….and then over the hill to wonderful Springfield Lake (another incredibly expensive undertaking by the Army Corps of Engineers- which I believe is really a Masonic secret society)for late day walk…..momentum and hangry carried us over yet another mountain range to the utterly out of place, surreal Brownsville Butcher Block…a New York style and priced store in the absolute middle of nowhere- that has really great $15 fried chicken sandwiches….

And, so it goes…. how ‘bout you? Wishes to all for a week of light……

Ferlin’

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Bonjourno:

“The place you are right now, God circled on a map for you” …………………………………………..Hafiz

“The butterfly counts not months but moments……and has time enough” ………………………Rabindranath Tagore

“Even Richard Nixon has got SOUL” …………………………………………………………………………………..Neil Young

Well, it’s been a thing here on The Mount for the last week, filed with wonder, discovery, and the long slow coming of autumn. The Greens are turning to a lesser green daily (de-greening?), but not much color, which may be the result of our extended drought (oh, the poor POND) or in general protest of the effect that Herr Trumpster is still on the loose.

And, what a couple of g-daughter weeks, not only did Sloanie-Baloney start pre-school, but our oldest, the grand Quin-Lily traipsed off to kindergarten, starting her journey towards adolescence, when we will find her temporarily psychotic for 6-7 years. Time flies, NO?

Monday we made the trek to Albany in almost 100-degree heat- it’s a lot hotter down there than up here- to get Sister Jane off and back to Cow-Town and wandered home with stops at the Grand Wally world and the classic Diner drive through (ostensibly for lunch, but mostly for the Greek rice pudding to die for) on way home and got back to the contemplative life (well, not The Queen, who got busy with Monarchy duties).

I made my fourth trip to try and find a primary care doc in either Vermont or Ohio since my beloved doc of 42 years had the audacity to retire….it appears one has to find a 20-year-old kinder-doc to be assured they won’t die or retire before you…. I am just about done answering questions about my bowel movements (regular)and use of recreational drugs (never-how dare you).

Thursday, we made the long awaited trip down to the bowels of Connecticut to check off one from my bucket list and see Van the Man in Bridgeport. The trip down I-91 is a breeze until you hit the crazed Northeast corridor once south of Springfield, Mass. And then it is suicide bomber central- but we made it to the fair Grand Marriott and then had a gorgeous night in cosmopolitan B-port…where we saw more people of color in five minutes than in the last three months in The Greens. Wandered around the late urban afternoon sunlight and found a Jamaican food dive where we had best Rasta food outside of Caribbean (for less than the cost of one beer inside the amphitheater). The Hartford Health amphitheater is a beauty- around 2K seats with a dome cover for rain and wonderful acoustics and they even let me go back to the car (despite a hundred NO-REENTRY signs) to get my glasses.

What’s there to say about Van the Man? He is a legend in our time (and clearly in his own mind). Two hours of musical magic with an over the top down and dirty 11-piece band –and a surprise visit-from Irish R&B legend (and Van protégé) James Hunter. That is way upside for The Man who has released 56 monumental studio albums since 1966. Downside? He is one the worlds’ great curmudgeons, never smiling or having any contact with the audience (not even a nod) and barking at the terrified musicians who must never last more than one tour…a genuine a-hole of a human, but-oh-the vibe-……Van played a gutful of harmonica and sax, which is unusual these days, and closed with a rousing Gloria from his 1966 album The Them. After he rooster-strutted off stage with nary a nod, the band kept at it for a full 20 minutes- clearly, freed from tyranny, and gleefully soloing, even working in an extended Moondance riff.

Checked off the bucket box-one and one- love the musician, can do without the man.

Morning after had the GRAND buffet breakfast at the hotel along with all the band members, who clearly stayed and traveled separately on a tour bus, while Van was at some penthouse and being chauffeured to the next gig.

Got back Friday afternoon, having had as much time away as we could stand from our third, Ms. Lucy- Lu; we get melancholia leaving her behind when she generally goes everywhere with us. And since out weekend guests, had postponed arriving for a day, we went down to Okemo for the annual visit of the Beatles Wannabes at the free mountain concerts. They still have the same two brothers leading the outfit for years (John and George) but the new Paul was around 90 and the new Ringo around 14, and it was definitely a downhill trend. My late, great friend, Steve (the Jewish Fish Monger) was rolling over in his grave at the dishonor to his beloved Fab Four I’m sure…………………but a gorgeous night on the mountain with picnic and frolicking mutts everywhere.

Late Saturday, my young friend and former Yard boy (all time 1^st ballot YB hall of famer) Marcus arrived with wife Sara and little 2 y/o Maddie–and we spent a delightful weekend traipsing around. Headed into Rutland on Friday for Ramuntos pizza pick up and dining al fresco at my chiro’s office by the lovely pond and then in search of Creamees before closing which we scored at the West Rutland snack bar. Sunday we coaxed Maddie for a walk on the Appalachian Trail-and lasted as far as the magic swinging bridge and rock throwing in the dwindling river, then home for nap. Spent the afternoon at the annual Blues/Folk fest at the Calvin Coolidge historical site, which could not have been more perfect- with classic fall day and the mountains surrounding in the background.

The Queen did her toddler-whispering with lil’ Maddie and won her over, though she seemed to regard Papi as potential Cookie Monster right up until leaving time this morning, but she was transfixed by the kitty Kats. And we got to visit with our old friend, big Lucy, who is in decline, but was our Lucy’s first mentor when she was a pup. They took off this am for the Vermont Country Store for tchotchke heaven -and the trek back to Philly -and we are now trying to settle back in after all the excitement- and it’s a perfect rainy day for it.

Was sitting at a stop sign coming back from the Fest yesterday, when some guy in a badass pickup (foreshadowing?)- turned right, going by me and putting head and hand out to shoot me the bird-out of nowhere- which made me reflect on the level of unprovoked hate we live with these days. Tell me baby, why you been gone so long?

It’ be a long time comin’…gonna be a long time gone……

Buenos notches, Estuardo

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