Category: Green Mountain Blog

HOLA Y Buenos Dias:

“The flowers fall for all our yearning; weeds grow, regardless of our dislike” ……………ZEN

“AH…The uguisu pooped on the rice cakes on the verandah?” ………………………Are You Kidding?

“Ooh, Baby, Baby…. It’s a Wild World” …………………………………………………………………………………………………Cat Stevens

Well, it’s been a quiet week at The Mount; the week of recovery and renewal………………………  And very, VERY quiet.  After an incredible six weeks of house painting, trekking across the country for a visit to the heartland, the exotica of Band Week and then a week of granddaughters…………………………  It was time to turn off and tune out………………………………….  Still, here are my ruminations on late August in The Greens:

This week’s Fun Vermont Fact: there is still an original living Von Trapp family member hanging out up Stowe way……………………………  At the Trapp Family Lodge………………….  where the Sound of Music remains vibrant…………………………  Sadly, no Julie Andrews…………………………………….

My ZEN observation of the week: “there was nothing about this turnoff that suggested this” ………………

Mid-August in Vermont means 75 degree day’s journey into 35° nights………………………  And sneaking peeks at the start of our Leafy Glory……………………………  More to come…….

After a certain age the role of Death and Dying becomes stunningly more prominent………………………………  We lost one acquaintance here our first nine years of living here……………………………  Over the last three, we have had four people pass, two friends losetheir spouse, and regularly seen to have people in Hospice………………………  Aging is not for Wussies, my friends…………… 

Sunday’s are often highlight days for us- meandering drives, dirt road walks and search for adventure………  Last week the drive was down the western slopes to little Putney……….  A walk on the great Rail Trails system, lunch on the ground, the drive up the Route 30 Falcons Cliffs corridor………………  Abandoned buildings and factories tell us stories of times and lives gone by……………….  Listen closely and you can hear the shadows………………………….

Have you ever considered the number of abandoned campuses in this country………………………?  Last week we came upon the beauty and serenity of the late Green Mountain college in Poultney……  abandoned five years ago for not meeting the threshold of economic viability………………………….  It now sits as a magnificent post monument to education, thriving community and ideals………………………………  But let’s be real, how many homeless people could be housed on these campuses……………how many events that could help the community thrive could be happening………………….  Use the empty, fill the void…… 

This Sunday, we wandered east to Chester and Bellows Falls (then donning our masks to slip over to the Land of Live FREE or Die -for cheap alcohol purchase) ………………………. stopped at a giant Estate sale, (Does an “Estate Sale” by title, increase prices by 50% over plain old yard and garage sales?) ……….  On to a dirt road hike at the Andover Road Pass ………………………….  That produced the latest entry in the Queens effort to fulfill her palatial dreams via scavenging………………….  This, producing a new rule that all outings need be accompanied by the collection a flat river rocks………  Which could lead to reaching appropriate accumulation and become a true Vermonty stone wall right in our front yard…………………………………  Further pushing our Flatlander-ness to the distant past…… 

We seem to lately have made inroads into inclusion with the hirsute fifth local in- crowd, such as it is…………………………  But with regular invitations to a ménage of community gatherings………….  Most of which The Queen attends……………………………  And for which the Papi routinely hides……….  Though the weekly Monday night music has recently become quite improvisational………….  Sending the traditional Folkies scampering for the exits…………………  While the cats are away……….

How about Bernie?……………………….  81 years of fire and brimstone…………………………  And then, the Obama royalty……………………………….  What a party……………………….  The most restored my faith in the potential of our democracy has been in some time……………  And where in the world has this Kamala been……………………….  Taking my breath away at the moment…………….  What a novel idea that we might have dignity at our helm.……….  And that the Complainer N’ Chief may be more likely to wear an orange jumpsuit then to take up space at the Oval………………………………………. please don’t bury me in that cold, cold ground…………. I’d rather that you cut me up, and pass me all around…………

In my search to replace my late point and shoot camera, I took it this week down to Trader Ricks’ House of Bizarre, in West Rutland……………………………………….  At which you can buy the remnants of every attic, basement, garage and self-storage unit for the entire Northeast United States………………………  That is, if you can make it down one of the aisles without being crushed by ancient trombones, shovels, axes or un-sheathed swords…………………………….  And all forms of 30 year defunct electronics……………  But no point and shoot……….

Thursday was catch up shopping day ………………………………  So into Rutland for the Miracle Mile and shop till we drop…………………………………  Sneaking in a visit to Ernie’s Hand Carved for a lo-cal pastrami and corned beef combo…………………….  Followed by some local donuts……………………  On the way home, scored a single remaining tickets to Weston playhouse (you can always find ONE ticket………………………….  Since The Queen was busy with her Court, took myself out for the solo theater outing and the magnificence of The Porch on Windy Hill……………  the premier of a wonderful new play, focusing on the post-Covid hate experiences of Asian Americans, but set in the heart of Appalachian town……………………  and with an extraordinary threesome of musicians creating brilliant old timey Americana music …………………….  Quite a contrast, scoring big both dramatically and musically……….  A rare feat……  20 dark- road minutes there and 20 home……  Allowing for an almost Broadway experience….  With free parking……………….

Headed up on Saturday night to Lake Nineveh to play music for a gathering of the elite………….  At a small private beach to which we would not usually be welcomed………….  But music is the ultimate remover of barriers…………………….  Maybe we need a better sound system at the border…………….  C’mon people now, smile on your brother….

And that my friends, is most certainly enough……………………  Without doubt for you and beyond doubt……. for me………

Keep coming back………………………………  It works if you work it……………………………Papi

Fellow Sufferers and Sufferagettes:

“When it is winter, speak cold; when it is summer, speak hot” ……………………………Chao-Chou

“To the mind that is still, the whole universe surrenders” ………………………………… Chuang- Tzu

“My dog doesn’t worry about the meaning of life” …………………………………………Charlotte Beck

And, The Queen, provides the motto of the week- metaphor or not, yours to decide – “My flowers are wilting” ……………………………

It’s another Saturday night…and I ain’t got nobody…. got some money, cause I just got paid…….

So, quite the ten day or so, since we last manifested our shared joy and angst………enough time for us to recover (barely) from annual band weeks and two weeks of house painting (TQ mentioned her next nine covetous house projects today, and I stopped the car in the middle of traffic, got out and left it running, and headed for Quebec) …   and so welcomed our Cleveland granddaughters for a week, whilst their parents traipsed around the Northeast…………Safe to say I probably took more pictures than it would seem humanly possible….but that is the Papi-San thing to do….so having now crashed my laptop (again) trying to send myself too many photos, then trying to attach too any photos and then trying to exorcise too many photos…I have now resorted  to a (Google defined) manageable set of attachments………BUT…..if you prefer to gluttonize……the link to the whole shebang…too much cuteness/how to wear out two aging adults photo album is yours, a click away: https://photos.app.goo.gl/mLCwcxrFAZvdN82n7

So, where to start…tempted to say to just put on your readers, and look at the photo obsessions……but….no cheating here…maybe just a synopsis? (how likely is that?)

Recovery days were good last week……. we also have had our other apples of NanaPapi eyes have a third b’day (Parkie) and firs 1st day of Kinder garden (Sloanie)…al in the rearview mirror for our two intrepid elders…. Highlights, highlights…yes, please…..

Fade to calm before the storm….

Saturday night-  we went to Vermonty hay bale diner at nearby Plew Farm, from whenst we get out meat products, eggs and folk wisdom……the family arrived at nigh midnight with sleeping angelic girls…had a bit of chat time with Ry and Lauren and off to prepare ourselves for a week of action

Sunday- morning saw the cod up kids wild tour of the property, turtle searching and rock climbing in the yard….which soon led to a five minute span in which the little angels managed to brake my little camera and take the head of one of our Buddhas….but, hey…you know the saying, it can all be replaced, right (actually I spent time this week discovering that my beloved lil’ camera, which I paid under $100 for new, and replaced when it drowned for $25 on EBAY, is now listing  used for around $300…apparently having become  a cult item…..(an antique?)…so then off to Mt holly Daze…where we cavorted with the locals whilst The Queen held Court………discovered that Quinnley was a sack race  champion and that Harper could not stand up in the sack, which led to____(more foreshadowing)….

Monday morning the parents took off and we initiated entertainment with a trek up the hill for blueberry stealing/picking…and our first of many efforts to keep Ivy from trying to reverse impregnate little Olaf…did I mention that the little circus coke as part of eh g-daughter package?……well Ivy is having her first heat and is momentarily over her zest for Lucy in favor of lil’ Mr. Olaf’s testosterone …all seven pounds of him…..got in a trip to the farm  for organic lessons and toddler whispering by TQ……and withstood seven 4 year old meltdowns in an hour …is No a two syllable word…..Noooo-aahhhhh………….

Tuesday was a first outing day with a hike, a trip to the library to make off with some illicitly borrowed kids’ books (everyone in town has the key access, you may remember)…then down the 140 to Wallingford for lunch and best Vermont Creamees at Kelly’s and an aborted trip to the cloud Sparkle Barn…..then on to make-up miniature gold at the drug cartel front that passes as play center o mild of nowhere on Route 7….”I’m from Brooklyn and you can F-off guy at the helm……safe to say the PGA will not threatened  by our golf outing at the awful miniature course, where Harps ran of with the balls into the woods……… after dinner that night, amazingly TQ organized a sleep out to the tent she set up in the yard for Vermonty  camp adventure…whilst Papi, Lucy and Mr. Olaf shard the big bed and the AC…you go, Nana…..they made it through the night only to be awakened at 6 am by a howling  Ivy who could not figure out what this was all about…..

Wednesday we braved a trip to Lake Nineveh……preparation time 4.5 hours….and the munchkin’s 1^st Kayaking adventure……where Quinnley tried out solo kayaking in a mini….and did great for about 15 minutes…then required rescue…. beach time was required, which meant coming ashore  on a sign, sign, everywhere a sign private beach…and then having to withstand a privacy discussion/see the sign lecture from a senile homeowner who could not remember he knew Jenn and I pretty well and was alternately pissed off and enamored by the kids …’such blonde hair I’ve never seen”………Nana had a Queen meeting to attend, so Papi strapped the kids in for date night, which involved grocery and Mart adventures…hikes to the covered bridge and the swinging bridge …dinner at the 99, where we discovered kids eat free the night after a Sox victory(Go SOX) at this beloved, and mediocre, New England institution….can you say Lobsta roll?…then down for more creamee heaven

Thursday was total adventure day with a perhaps overly ambitious (certainly not Papi, you say?) 12 hour Burlington experience…a two plus  hour drive (are we there yet)…to the Echo/Leahy (our other Senator) Science Center on the lake for the MO Willem interactive exhibition mania…who knew about the Pidgeon?…..fancy-ish luncheon on the dock on shores of the Champlain….then pile back in for the short but unhappy trip down rush hour route 7  to the Shelburne museum….10 acres of majesty with art and an 1800s village…with ride ons the 100 year old caroused…..the magnificent  history of the circus in miniature of 100 years of the big top….then onto the incredibly restored elegance of a private t rail train-circa 1890 -and the last of the great Lake steam ships…are we tired yet?….not quite…on back to Rootland…for pizza at Ramuntos  and, yes…another creamee………..

Friday was a home day with games, tears and Pond swimming…. which was somewhat tempered by clouds, yucky-yucky- oooh…brown water and the threat of being consumed by ancient snapping turtle……screaming and Papi rescue ensuing…… though Mr. Olaf seemed to love the Pond…as did ivy when she discovered her unrequited love was trashing around in there………………………

The big kids showed back up late Friday afternoon…full of their own week of joy…and we let them adjust by Papi schlepping the girls and Lucy down to see the weekly music extravaganza at Okemo…music was lousy….the Connecticut mob was boorish and there were no other little kids…….but we gallivanted nonetheless and managed one last series of photo ops…before succumbing to hanger and heading home- but not before a stop at Shaw’s in Ludlow to get a bread for dinner, which included a quick 3-way shared chocolate iced  donut, that we might have gotten away with as a freebie if Harper were not bathed in it…hosing required… home then for the house special Bolognese…and finally, to bed

They all left around noon today….and NanaPapi embarked to cleanup/collapse mode…. from which we may emerge sometime yet this year…….

All’s well that ends well…the Dumpmaster was very happy to see us back at it today…and Ivy decided to come in the house and that maybe we were really her parents…..which did not go over that well with Saffron…..but.. tomorrow is a day…start of a new week….and no more looking for love in all the wrong places………

Back to it……love the one you’re with……

Papi luvs ya……….

Hey, Hey, My, My:

“A crescent moon sitting in the boat, moonlight on my lap” ……………………Taigi

“Be still….and Heal” ………………………………………………………………Thich Nhat Hanh

“Listen, Mate…I certainly don’t’ want to be singing Satisfaction when I’m 65” ……Mick Jagger (1980)

Well, I’m two days late and two dollars short……. after only mildly recovering from the week of Bunty- Band chaos………honestly it is too much fun, debauchery, zaniness, laughter, herding of herd…and sore finger nubs to really recount effectively……but the photos do pretty well….

The Nave discovered our theme for the week……The SHAME Gong on his phone, which we used repeatedly any time someone uttered a shameful mouthful…which was pretty much every half hour…. oh… THE SHAME……

We carried on way beyond our cumulative “DOTTAGE…….

Our 24-year-old Cello (really) player clearly has an empty third leg…….and ate 17 meals a day……. while pursuing any and every experience The Greens have to offer ……loved the Dumpmaster summit…….he also somehow retrieved a fellow wood sprite lady off  the Appalachian trail…the two of them could only be described as The Bobbsey Twins…..in The POND together, I could not tell which was which…….

Vegans like cake and chocolate a lot more than evil diary…. they CAN be tempted by such……

“I got up to touch my bottom” ……………………………………

“I really like to BLING…….

The gardens and eccentric buildings of the Fourth Corner Foundation, in Wyndham, are pretty much indescribable……….

Food week:

• Kelly’s of Wallingford Creamees- untouchable
• Kelly’s lunch menu- B+
• Maple Leaf diner- Londonderry- greasy B+
• Ramuntos NY Pizza- Rutland- …you know the answer by now…
• The Brownsville Butcher- A+
• The Queens’ nightly dinner for 15…….by candlelit porch…. with wine and memories if Johnny 99…. beyond PRICELESS
• Mojos tiny table for 10 on a Friday night in Ludlow……. A with a bullet……

How many musicians does it take to shop a grocery list….no woman…? just post-adolescent males…….

What is it like to rise to a cello concerto each morning…regardless of your mental state?

“200 years of persecution runs through my veins” ……….

How any bee stings can one person get in one week?

Can six 70ish music guys figure out how to get a PA working when a cords is gathered to listen……. apparently only when a 60ish youngster comes to the rescue (THANK YOU, JEB)

Music, music, tunes, pickin’ grinnin’ Tie dye ‘in……

Old, old friends….and new friends…and Vermonters…. ===…. The Bunty Orchestra…a week for the ages………What’s’ new pussycat?……..

Go now……. guess I gotta go now………let me count the joys……. Nave…. Feel…. Brother Al…. Mitch-man………Young Ferd……Marco……Mike-meister……Plastic Jesus Girl and Hubs……and the Vermont crew……love you to death…..anyone’s’ death…..

THE CIRCLE REMAINS UNBROKEN……………We will always love and miss you, Lloydie…………

Downtown Charlie Brown…. till we meet again……NAP TIME……….

Ferlin’- of the Steaks and Chops and Bunty Boys

Buenos Dias:

“Clinging is to insist on being someone- Not to clinging is to be free to be no one” ………….Nagarjuna

“If you argue with reality, you lose- but only 100% of the time” …………………………………Byron Katie

“I love this week!!!!” …………………………………………………………………………………The Naven

Well, it’s been an interesting week- from the prairie heartland through the New York State Southern Tier lowdown boogie, then back to The Mount………….  Back on the project horse….  chasing The Queens’ elusive dream…….  and making ready for the annual Bunty (not British) invasion to The Greens….…….

In the interest of domestic harmony (i.e.- better get back to massive Honeydew list we have been, under TQ direction, for fifth straight day) …….  I had better resort to the minimalist Zen Blog for today ………..

Thus……  her are the week’s BIG, BIG TEN…………

• Spent our last Sunday in the heartland dog days performing our second live set, at Brother Mitch’s house…in the metropolis of Tipp City……  Where my granddaughters got to see Papi do his rock star thing for the first time………  A beautiful Sunday afternoon filled with music and friendship …ended with a traditional family performance of Will the Circle Be Unbroken…….  which I got to sing with my daughter son in law and granddaughters in our own mini circle circle………  With our late brother, Lloydie, leading us from above……

• On Monday, we finally got the butt –crack- plumber to show up at our house, albeit four hours late………………………….  And tell us we needed $800 of the esoteric pipe repair (for safety, no less!) ……  All of which had nothing to do with our broken hot water heater………which miraculously sell repaired upon the butt- crack arrival………………………how does that always happen?………  So, we had hot water for our last 24 hours before flying the coop…….

• Monday night, we had a visitation from my FANATIC great nephew….in Columbus for the major league soccer All-Star game……….  and making time for his old uncle and auntie…….  went out for a massive plate of Venezuelan delights…. origin unknown …….  Since most of our supply is in Vermont, we had pre- dinner moonshine cocktails…. you gotta go with what you got, no?…… 

• Tuesday, we made the 12-hour drive…….  Easing from the prairie, to the hills, to the verdant Green Adirondack valleys………and finally to her majesty’s Greens by late night……….  A fine trafficless travel day with Lucy and the two cats roaming around the car for the length of the journey……….  and a magnificent last minute stop at the Country View diner drive thru window in Troy, for our homecoming meal…. consumed as we turned north into the Brave Little State

• Returning home, to the initial dark nights’ disappointment of scaffolding and ladders still gracing the house…………  But next day…. clear evidence that the Assistant Dumpmaster ……  And the Wayward Carpenter had both spent time finishing up our Beserkley punch list for the house project………………………………  Waking the next day, we were impressed to find the last of the house painting done, the roof/ceiling repaired, lights fixed, mortar applied…………  All of which would seem to indicate project closure……. but……  Foreshadowing here….

• That does not account for the massive running list of repair, retool and preparation that our own, private Obersturmführer had in mind and in store…………  So the week has been filled with punch lists, hacking, whacking, pruning, relocating, revisioning……  And generally playing the part of a Gulag work crew in Siberia, circa 1946……  But who’s complaining?
• Have I mentioned the birds?………………….  When we returned in May, we appeared to have a bird’s nest in our front entryway, nestled above our fake security camera…………  which, The Queen promptly indicated was off limits …. for any form the disruption………………………  Thus the house painting project involved the cleaning, scraping and painting around said bird and her new family………………………………………  We continue to provide public housing for the little mother’s and her third round of babies…………………….  which remain untouchable, and provide a steady flow of bird shit on our otherwise pristine front house paint presentation…………………  But who’s complaining?

• Yesterday, I was able to escape the Gulag, armed by TQ with a Master shopping list, that had me driving back and forth thru Rutland Town for hours on end…….  Searching for all forms of esoterica in the mountains……………….  With moderate success………………  The highlight being arriving at Walmart for curbside pickup only to find out that pickup was available at the local Wal-Mart back in Ohio……………………….  This required immediate intervention at Ramuntos for the two slice lunch special …….  Before tackling the problem……….  We have recently discovered the lowbrow Price Chopper which seems to want our business a great deal more than the indifferent and showey Hannaford down the road…………  We now much more happily shop with the food stamp people………  And without airs…

• On Friday night…. after years of the urging, nudging and persuasion………………….  I attended my first Belmont monthly Boyz-Nite dinner…………………………  an affair involving the town’s crustiest, cantankerous old men bluebloods……………I was assured by proper place as invading flatlander……  All of this at the estate of a local transplanted- hot flash -New York lawyer, from Manse on a hill overlooking the Morass of what was once lovely Star Lake………………………  The menu of lasagna, Caesar salad and brownies somehow required a contribution of $11.00 per person………  The total haul around $220, by my calculation…………  Which pays for a lot of lasagna…………  I’m trying to decide which of: The Retired. Erudite Postman, The Yale Professor Whose Family Has Lived Here for 200 years …or… the towns authorized and celebrated Vietnam Vet Who Rules the Suppers at Odd Fellows Hall………………………  provided the most comic relief……………  Which was badly needed………………………….  The Queen insists I need to find my posse here at our Ville……………………  But frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn……

• And finally today is arrival day, as my band mates of almost a half century began to arrive from points south and west………………………………  And prepare for the annual Vermont magical mystery tour………………………………… now…. I must go see my commander in chief…………  for today’s’ assignments

The game is afoot………………………………  And long live The Queen………….

It’s all possible………..Ferlin’

My Cherie Amours:

“On whose door dos the moonlight not shine?” ………………………………………Zen Guy

“REALITY and PERFECTION are synonymous” …………………………………… Baruch Spinoza

“I am the gates president foe the environment in history” …………………………..Who DOYA think

“We won’t get fooled again” …………………………………………………………….Pete Townshend

Well, contrary to my usual modus operandi, this will indeed be a short correspondence.  The last two weeks have been a blur, culminating in our escape last Sunday to the heartland for annual mid-summer visit……  not a moment too soon.

Feeling guilty about blog- interuptus for three weeks, so decided on shortened nonsense from the Ohio residence this Sunday morning.

As you can see from the accompanying photos, we spent most of the prior two weeks ridiculously painting our house……………  A task clearly more appropriate for our grandchildren.  The Queen essentially stayed on a ladder for 10 straight days with a camel pack and a poop bag (except for almost daily trips to Home Depot to buy more, more, more).  We hired multiple people, of dubious lineage, to assist, all of which made matters worse.  In the end, we only had to redo most everything they did.

In the midst of all this, we experienced the shared statewide PTSD, when we were amazingly threatened by severe flooding on the one-year anniversary of The Great Flood of 2023; essentially paralyzing the state for 48 hours of anticipatory angst, though resulting in little or no rain where we live; tho the Northies were pelted. I actually drove up north the day before to prepare for a full day state park retreat only to check into a hotel, spend 3 hours of zoom calls…………………………………………  And then learn the retreat had been shifted to be virtual…………… Having never unpacked in the first place, I checked out, and drove home to spend six mind numbing hours on zoom the following day………….  Feeling guilty all day (sort of), while The Queen and the Assistance Dumpmaster tried to Bondo (now a verb) the entire house in prep for paint, fighting against 92° heat.

We escaped once or twice to find a dirt road and let off the proverbial steam…………………………  Which required better mind altering chemicals than we had.

Sunday morning found The Queen back up on the ladder, until it was time to get in the car and drive 12 hours to our ostensibly “new” house………………………………………  I emphasize new, as in more trouble free (foreshadowing here) ………  So to our surprise we returned to a broken clothes dryer, ice maker and a failed hot water heater……. thus a dog days’ summer week in lovingly temperate (sarcasm!) Ohio with no hot water……  Groovy……

Still, we accomplished our mission, had two live performances with the band and multiple granddaughter extravaganzas; taking our youngest, little 3 y/o Parkie, on her first solo outing with Nana and Papi ……….  To the Columbus Museum of Art, of all places, where she was enchanted by the abundance of color………….  Repeatedly asking who made that, Papi?  We returned her for nap, and picked up older sister Sloanie, for our traditional, crazed 24-hour NanaPapi experience. 

Today we are preparing for a giant party out by Dayton, and one more live show, before we gather our shit, and hit the road Tuesday, back to the little house on the hill until November-and to the leftover house beautifying fiasco.

Next week the band arrives for annual Vermont shows, and general debauchery……….  A momentous event this year to honor our lost brother, Johnny 99, who left-as suddenly this winter. Trying to imagine 12 or so of our besties at the Manse for a week

We may be too old for all this………but can’t stop…. make it stop, make it stop…….

Time to get back on the train …. till then

Stu

Oh BOY…………

“How easily it glows, how easily its light goes out- the firefly” …………………………. Chine

“Deep Calls to Deep” …………………………………………………………………Some Biblical Thingie

“Must be the season of the witch” …………………………………………………….Donovan

Well, Sunday began our recovery from the NYC extravaganza (foreshadowing here) and The Queen had decided that I needed a new guitar…… which she had found on the selling wall.  I am not typically, nor hardly, either an impulse nor a collector (toys) kind of buyer.  But I humored her, and we made the trek up to the booming metropolis of White River Junction and reluctantly purchased what looks like would have been played by Hank Williams on the Grand Ol’ Opry, which is kind of my dream to begin with.  So now I have a new guitar that I have no idea what to do with, but which looks really cool and has its own state of the art pickup.  Our reward for this was a must- stop at the infamous Wicked Awesome Barbecue where we dined outside in tent in sweltering 94° heat.  From there, it was all into the search for the elusive bonding products to repair the front of our house- prior to the start of The Queen’s latest and greatest effort to repaint the whole magillah………… which might get completed sometime in this millennium.  Did I mention how hot it was?  This resulted in trips to three different Home Depot’s, in two states, and holding the general manager of the last one at gunpoint to acquire the necessary products.  Subsequent to this, we crawled home semi- exhausted- (more foreshadowing.)

Began to have a few sniffles on Sunday night which I attributed to unaccustomed exposure to air conditioning that made everything in the city feel like entering a walk in freezer, but by Monday morning was feeling a bit worse for the wear.  Determined to work through this, I spent the day working online and doing zoom calls, going to the gym, and playing music Monday night.  By nightfall it was worse.  Tuesday morning decided to take the dreaded test, which was resoundingly positive…. WTF………  Which only reaffirms my belief that these days the two most dangerous things to do are to fly and to go to New York.  As a result, was I went to New York, got the plague, and had to cancel my planned trip to North Carolina for family reunion……what a world.

So, back to the world of masks and isolation and feeling generally like a leper.  So, you might imagine there’s not much to say about this week………….  But, alas, you know well that is not my style, and thus here is live report of what Stuie did with his week of Plaque-cation (get it?):

I read two whole books

I watched hours of classic appearances on Austin City limits, which I was not aware still existed, but which I found out is the longest running the entertainment show in television history; Jackson Browne, Merle haggard, anyone?

Found my buried treasure of handkerchiefs that and then sneezed thru a dozen in a day.

I discovered how to connect the portal with FaceTime and spent time with the entire family in North Carolina……….  All of whom did not seem to even realize that I had not made it……. there’s a deflater.

 I reluctantly picked up a paintbrush, and washed, scraped and sanded the entire front entrance portico to our house, while TQ flew around –up on various pieces of staging, scraping and bonding the roofline and upper windows.

I spent an hour a day bitching about the handyman we hired to assist us in painting the house, who, in typical VT. fashion, dropped off the staging and ladders and then disappeared.  What were we thinking? 

I commiserated with God’s Own Mandolin Player, and prepared or refined set lists for three upcoming gigs…………………  Thinking about songs that could be played with masks on.

I watched several episodes of the Lone Ranger…. nuff said, masked man.

I swam in the wonderfully clean, though very brown, Pond for the first time……, naked……  managing to not get bit by our newest monsters snapping turtle.

I watched wistfully, through the screen door, as the. Dumpmaster took advantage of my illness to make repeated visits to woo The Queen.

I took my masked self to Home Depot, where we spent my last six months’ earnings on the painting project………………. that will likely never end.

I made friends with Ivy, Lucy’s erstwhile suiter, and even lured her into the house, where she mingled on the porch with all the non Covid living beings in our household.

I watched more Austin City limits.  I read more books.  I took a nap.

I cleaned and organized the back of our barn – just to see if breathing in asbestos for hours would adversely affect my Covid………. apparently did not………  except I can no longer see out of one eye.

I watched several old taped baseball game……… since we do not have cable and I cannot watch them live…. better than nothing? maybe….

Practiced my technology skills by updating many programs on both of my laptops………….  Leading to only several minor crashes…………  And the need to start in safe mode……. nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I sweated a lot, ate a lot of carbs, gained a few pounds and went to the grocery with two masks on yesterday, which seemed to result in excellent customer service.

I generally felt sorry for myself for 48 hours……………and then decided it could be a lot worse.

Long story short……….  I had a bad cold for 2 ½ days, and am now back to jogging, and normal routine……though continuing to lay around and wear a mask whenever TQ comes in the house………..  To avoid any further painting assignments……  it could be worse

Getting ready to head out in a 90° heat and sweat the last of it out……. and actually symptom free for three days; thankfully in time for several music events, an overnight work trip, and our mid-summer visit back to Ohio (and the g-daughters) next weekend for 10 days……….  The Lord is my shepherd………  I SHALL not weep………

Got to go see a man about a dog………but I’ll be back……… 

Risen from the ashes,

Stu-ber

Oh Brother, How Art Thou?

“The sparrow is sorry for the peacock at the burden of his tail” ……………… Rabindranath Tagore

“All is one, one is none, none is ALL” ……………………………………………. ZEN

“I got you Babe” ……………………………………………………………………Sonny Bono

Feelin’ the RAMBLE this morning, after a week of sturm and drang…so going with the abstract form……. the swelling is in the telling….

Sunday last was trekkin’ day, per custom, and off we went to the high country between Rutland and Danby in search of the museum of dirt roads; finding a beauty, complete with miles of matrices of hanging maple lines crisscrossed with raging streams, water wheels and vistas………  eventually leading us back to the draw of the two slice of special at Ramuntos…….  Just in time for roving alarms signaling the rare occurrence of tornadoes in the mountains……….  No climate change here……

The day the music died…………  Reminded this past Monday that weekly Folk Club at The Mount is not quite pulling into Bunty Station……………  Circles and song sheets are a poor replacement for soulful inspiration……….  Where are the men that I used the sport with?

Tuesday sauna workout at the Springhouse at Okemo Mt………….  Upside: the building and the facilities are all mine ….and what a view…….  Downside: broken air conditioning and working out in 89° heat…….  Must not be any free lunch……

Check out the photo of the new Library Maven’…………  my new volunteering gig at the Mount…….  Consisting of a two-hour weekly shift shooting the breeze with various local visitors and waiting for a train……….  My own library romper room…….

Has anyone checked out the HBO documentary on the history of Stax/Volt music? …………Otis, Sam and Dave, the Fabulous Bar-Kays, Isaac………… This may be the real American music………. the role of soul…….

Mid-week role into town to visit in Rutland Co-op……….  To acquire various seeds, stems, and bin potions for The Queens’ concoctions……………  I had to fight my way in, wielding a large organic carrot, due to my failure to own, wear or display a pair of Birkenstocks………….

Our new ambition to rid our barn (and souls) of 40 years of unwanted crap has resulted in a personal mandate to haul a minimum of five items per week to the dump……….  This week we made a special trip on Wednesday night with a whopping 10 plus items, of dubious distinction, loading down our trunk………  who knew that The Dumpmaster convenes his entire court mid-week…………  Clearly this is the place to see, be seen and conduct all forms of nefarious business………….  Much of our junk did not even make it to the bins, before being swallowed up by the hordes of shark like mountain folk…. …..

TQ is currently on the project rampage…….  Yard barely recognizable………….  Secret items arriving daily to the neighbors mailbox (she thinks I don’t know) ………..  This week she banished me to the basement to clean 10 years of dust and debris, requiring the double N-95 masking……… …while upstairs a new window appeared in my bathroom and plans were made for multiple construction projects……………  The coming week will apparently herald the initiation have a multiyear house painting project, led by the brand new assistant Dumpmaster……

I returned for the first time in some years to the table of the Masseuse in Da Trailer for hot rocks, suction and a full assessment of my spiritual wellbeing while she manhandled my ancient bones…

Friday we made our way down the iconic Taconic…….  filled with memories of my long ago childhood treks with my long gone father to West Point…. reasons unknown……  but always including a stop at the beloved Chief Martindale Diner (the real deal) ……still in business….and hosting our visits almost 70 years later….

This led us to our usual 24-hour annual whirlwind trip to visit my Cousins in the Big Apple surroundings…………  Five meals, 60,000 carbs and too much wine later we made our way home last night……….  Family- finding has become a mission of mine in my waning years….  And we were able to gather eight Cousins together for the traditional meal meeting at one of a dozen Italian Restaurants in the affluent Burb of Tuckahoe….

We stayed with my closest cousin in her high-rise apartment in the last bastion of Jewishness left in the five Boroughs………….  In a building self-contained to survive the next nuclear war and containing somewhere in the neighborhood the 10,000 scurrying souls……….  All of which proves to be a startling delights to Lucy, who must have been a very urban dog in a previous life……  who knew that she knew from elevators, noisy apartment neighbors and pissing on concrete? …  Bonus was a Saturday morning jog to a classic bagel emporium during the height of the rush hour to the massive Riverdale Shul…………  Bobbing and weaving through the hustling, suited and yarmulke bearing, murmuring observers of the faith………  leaving them a bit startled as I whizzed uttering “Good Shabas”, from what must have appeared to be a lunatic fifth Goy with a dog and a bag of bagels….

Not to mention stopping every 20 yards to snap photos of the quaint little Hobbit houses that probably sell for four million dollars….to Jews and Goys alike……….  there is some ancient, primeval attraction to these places I’ve spent years trying to leave behind, yet which emerges the moment I hit NYC traffic and my inner taxi driver returns from hiatus….

And is there a more alluring sight than the mighty Hudson River making its way from THE great city to the mountains and beyond….

Well, much as there is many more ramble to tell….that must wait for another time as we have to go see a man about a guitar…….  Don’t ask

So, until we meet again, may the sun warm your shoulders, and may you find a real slice of pizza regardless of your location……

Estuardo

Bonosera, Bonosera“White dew over the potato field…. the Milky Way” ………………….Shiki

“What a caterpillar calls the end of the world, we call a butterfly” …………………………..Eckhart Tolle

“Be THE Ball” ………………………………………………………………………………………..Caddyshack Zen

The Hot Tamale Heat Wave hit The Greens this week; pumping out near 100° heat for several days.  The Queen went haywire with temperature control……. opening and closing every window in the house, multiple times a day, for four or five days- ostensibly either keeping the heat out or containing the cool in.  Regardless of our interior state, midweek resembled a blast furnace outside- a rare occurrence in our mountain idyll.  We even resurrected the ancient window air conditioner to assist with sleep in the upper sauna.  Then, lo and behold, thunderstorms hit, and within hours we were huddled in blankets against the night chill-very Mountainesque.

We started the week last Sunday in search of a Father’s Day dinner; the dining out experience now akin to searching for the lost city of Atlantis.  After finding two advertised- as- open places closed and boarded, and sitting around a third totally chaotic waiting area, we bit the bullet and settled for Applebee’s………really Applebee’s (though, I am ashamed to admit that the 2 fer 25 is alluring-not quite free lunch- but alluring nonetheless). 

Filled with plentiful, if unspectacular, dinner fare, we sought a short grocery run- continuing our experiment with doing our shopping at the low rent Price Chopper; after weeks of disgust with Hannaford’s skyrocketing prices and failure to stock what we want.  The Chopper clearly appeals to a different clientele……. who apparently are now us.  The highlight of our trips there is often the assistance we require, and receive, at the barely functioning self-checkout; delivered in adventurous style by an extremely cross-eyed young man who is clearly on the spectrum and probably with Asperger’s; our interactions often involving something approaching pantomime.

Can anyone tell me what exactly a Webinar is, anyway?

In the highlight of the week, we returned on Tuesday to the splendor of the lovely Hub at Weston dining room for the monthly community lunch gathering.  We were amongst a small group in the very upscale, faux –rustic-mountain cottage dining room and clearly the youngest people there by a decade or more.  Not only did we enjoy a spectacular gourmet luncheon (almost Downton- Abbey-esque) but we were sent packing with multiple take out portions for friends in need back at The Mount.  Sadly, we were unable to deliver these in a timely fashion, and ate them instead.  I am reassured in my belief, that there is indeed Free Lunch. (ya feelin’ me, Feel?)

Lucy and I have resumed weekly dirt road walks with the Erstwhile Russian Spy; often resulting in long and in winding remembrances of life on The Mount; most of which are clearly fabricated, but fascinating nonetheless; and who am I to take issue with fabrication?  This week the walk started right outside our door in sprinkles, and up the hill to the home of the displaced Southies thru a roaring thunderstorm, returning Le Spy to our house drenched…just in time for dinner date.

After the heat, the chill and the downpours, Friday was nice enough for a day trip out to the Middlebury area.  We decided to take a long-cut, heading west over to Castleton and then up Route 30, a remarkably lovely drive, through the verdant Champlain valley; miles and miles of rich green farmland surrounded by The Greens to the west and the Adirondacks to the east.  Our reward was lunch from never-changing Momma Corleone, at the eccentric Costello’s Italian deli, nestled covertly in the fascinating old Marble Works section of Middlebury.  In between rain drops, we settled for dinner on the ground next to the raging river, with the old Marble factories looming in the background.

Saturday, after a belabored visit to the Dumpmaster, and his new protégé, we had a fine beat-the –rain walk on a nearby dirt road before settling in for rainy afternoon nap.  We are expecting severe storms this afternoon, likely to preempt our planned outing to an outdoor Weston playhouse performance up by Ascutney, which we may alternately catch in Grafton, later this week.  The show is really directed at children under 12, but there is free lunch, so what the hey?

Planning to hit The Trailer for massage this week from the elusive Masseuse, and make the trek down to The Apple later in the week to see the aging Cousins, of which I might add, I am the youngest; you go boy……….

Time to go and inspect the weed growth for this week.  Be brave, Be kind, Be curious.  Till then……

Papi-San

Bonjour mes Belles Personnes:

Happy Father’ Day to all whom the shoe fits……or foo shits…….

“Coming or going, always at home” …………………………………………………………..Zen

“The cool breeze takes up its abode……even in a single blade of grass” …………….…Issa

“Yes, I’m workin’ my way back to you, babe…with a burnin’ love inside” ……………….Bob Gaudio

Father’s day Sunday morning sunshine abounds, but I wake from hazy sleep with questions on my mind.

Is there a connection between the price of milk and high percentage of people living off social programs in the state of Vermont?

How important as garnish?

Is it a traditional father’s day gift for the birds to tweet and the train to Choo Choo at 5:00 AM on the designated morning?

We started our week with the traditional Sunday night visit (clearly a Jewish thing) to the splendor of East for long awaited reunion with the roast duck with pine nuts.  Lovely setting on the road to Killington, white tablecloths, Asian elegance, prices that defy the cost of Chinese Food anywhere else.

On the way, we got in a walk with Lucy and discovered a major new dirt road opp; running off route 103 on the old, and currently closed, Airport road.  This is a Bermuda Triangle walk, in which one could disappear, and leads to an old gristmill and mid 1800s covered bridge being rebuilt.  No cars, no people, rear of the regional Airport security massive fence, hillside overkill- are there terrorists targeting the Rutland regional Airport?

It appears that are Belmont General store is getting close to reopening, after two years of closure and massive rehabilitation- which may foreshadow no longer having to make a road trip to pick up butter, or beer- though there is some question of whether the new owners have any sense of the local’s needs or are trying to create a tourist mecca destination in the middle of nowhere.

Have I mentioned how difficult it has been to locate new release library books here in The Mount; currently I have the Mount Holly and Ludlow libraries competing for my esteemed business- as in which one is able to locate any book released in the last millennium.

My weekly trip to Rutland for the comprehensive shopping day provided an opportunity to continue my search for a lunch less than $13.00; I scored the $6.00 high-quality breakfast sandwich at Olivia’s Market- which is the equivalent of free lunch.  See, there is free lunch.

Thursday night we made our first visit of the year to the Weston Playhouse to see the Vermont style production of Jersey Boys; more impressive then you might imagine from the oldest summer stock theater company in the country.  We met our favorite Southie (well, maybe co-favorite) from the castle at the top of Bowlsville road, for a wonderful dinner in the exclusive Hub at Weston, connected to the theater; supping on the terrace on a magnificent summer eve whilst being served by an array of extremely precise and well-coiffed young men- what a night!

At the Dump this week, I encountered the new sub Dumpmaster, who claims to be a skilled handyman which we have arranged to find out.  The true Dumpmaster apparently remains dubious.

Last night we attended a small birthday dinner cookout at the Masseuse in the Trailer’s place, for her partner, Metal Mike.  The Masseuse has been out of circulation for the past two years after a series of losses; so it was a big occasion and revolved around their new state of the art gas griddle (compared to the half assembled built one our barn that has mystifying Korean instructions and that we bought for $75.00 at Walmart).  Since COVID, Metal Mike has also become a mixology connoisseur, so we had giant fu-fu concoctions of unknown origin along with brilliantly griddled smash burgers.

It has been an interesting week all the way around, but the absolute highlight the week (maybe of the decade) was our trip midweek down to Manchester to pick up the print job for TQ’s Association for their annual mail stuffing solicitation.  We intended to dine as the Burmese hole in the wall we discovered last year run by the Soup Nazi and his lovely wife; who makes bearing the NAZI worthwhile.  Sadly, they were closed, which is unpredictable- so we settled for a New York style pushcart meal of hot dogs with mustard and sauerkraut in a parking lot, served by middle age lady claiming to have “the best buns in town”- which turned out to be true.

From there, we headed out of town on quaint route 7A to find the print shop, which was set in a small industrial park. While TQ went in to see to the printing, I went next door to what appeared to be a confectionery and chocolate haven. Entering, I realized it was more production then retail.  I was about to leave when the gentleman behind a glass partition in the vestibule asked if he could help me. As I turned to him he yelled out my name and came rushing out to greet and embrace me.  Ron, the owner of Mother Myricks’ deserts, and we had met at a wine and music dinner at the Manchester Inn seven years ago and he asked, at the time, to be added to the Blog mailing list.  Turns out, he is likely the number one follower to my blog (did not even know I had followers”), is an avid reader, waits each Sunday for the Blog release with baited breath; he and his wife Jackie had actually discussed coming to find us in The Mount so that they could meet the various characters that populate the weekly Sunday sermon.

To say that this freakishly chance meeting made the day for both of us, would be a gross understatement.  It was like finding a long lost treasure and allowed me to figure out who one of my subscriber email addresses actually belonged to.  Turns out we share a plethora of cultural interests, and that Ron is fond of quoting the blog to his long suffering wife and looking up various and sundry lyrical obscura references I include for my own amusement, and am never really sure anyone else or really cares.  Ron insisted we go back into town to visit his wife at the retail location; which resulted in quizzical looks and very fine desserts, before stopping back to see Ron and snap a photo, which he dressed up for and seemed to view as equivalent to being on the cover of Rolling Stone.

Ron, this BLOG’s for you!!!!!! My newest friend and best reader. Long May You Ron.

What can I say, one in a million——who loves Blog, Blog….…we love Blog, Blog.

Till next time,

 Papi

Hola:

“There comes a time when one asks of Shakespeare, even of Beethoven, “Is this all?” ………………………………………………………………………………. Aldous Huxley

“There will always be suffering, but we must not suffer over the suffering” …………………………………………………………………………………………………. Alan Watts

“Truth is something you stumble into when you think you are going someplace else” ……………………………………………………………………………………Jerry Garcia  

Did you ever have to make up your ind? ……To pick up one and leave the other behind? It’s not often easy, it’s not often kind…did you ever have to make up your mind?…………………………..

Kids in Disney’s very hot summer universe pix attached for viewing….

Oh Queen, where art thou? The Queen (TQ) has re-established her court in The Mount….connecting with her volunteer efforts, her bone building, her posse and her rituals….out an about doing the deeds daily….developing new efforts to hand re-invent the land with the evisceration of our rear section of overgrowth; now housing a varietal of dug up and relocated saplings abducted from many trails and dirt roads…….and in her efforts to eradicate mowable space has now erected a tomato tent smack dab in the middle…she spends her days swathed in white fiber and black fly netting happily humming her way around the manse…dreaming up new and better projects…

Whilst, TQ engages in her efforts at yard eradication, social change and woman power, I search for lunch. I search near and I search far – and am befuddled by the utter lack of options regardless of direction….Since Covid, eating option losses include: beloved Sal’s in Wallingford, once beloved Sam’s Steakhouse (early bird deal of the century), the only locals place in tourist-bound Ludlow (Da café at DaLite), local legend Harrys , the local subway (only a slab now), and our closest grocery store and drug store-and of course, our local general store (closed two years now, and still under perpetual construction)….we are evaporating…..there is still lunch around- at about $13 a sandwich pop….which far. far exceeds my sensibilities and my allowable dally quota………where have all the flowers gone…where is the free lunch…where art the men that I used to sport with?………

Dirt road walks have resumed in earnest…with Lucy Lou far racing off into the woods to chase the very evasive “chippie” (any form of rodent that runs away) ……and …… to come back covered in a- animal shit, b- dead animal carcass, c- poison ivy or d- Lyme-bearing Ticks……………. it’s a dangerous world out there…….

Transitioning from suburban convenience to the rural mountain landscape always creates adjustments.  But these have become increasingly challenging (post Covid-post floods) and represents daily exotic (NOT erotic!) puzzles to solve.  Obtaining a jug of milk is akin to crossing the frontier in a covered wagon, sometimes amounting to an hour and a half of roundtrip journey.  This week I continued my mountain auto and phone journeys; finding my way back to the original sin, car dealer dealership to resume my efforts at defeating the random, flashing error lights that haunt my vehicle- this all before my 100,000-mile warranty expires next week. 

Even more challenging has been the amazing quest to secure a battery that might permit my medieval cell phone to take advantage of the newly spectacular availability of cell service at The Mount- with our switch to lovable Consumer Cellular.  But alas, not a battery within a 2-hour drive and the online mavens take a full week plus to find us- and that, only by having the orders sent to a fake mailbox belonging to the Masseuse at the Trailer.  Having finally been notified of delivery, I found her mailbox empty, then realizing that the benevolent, but not so competent, folks at the government’s mail dictatorship had kindly decided to not deliver to the proscribed address- but instead to lovingly hold this for me at my post office box- which had just closed for the next two days.  In disbelief, we messaged our friendly former postmistress, who agreed to meet us at the boarded up facility, to allow us access the long sought forbidden fruit; only to discover we had been sent the wrong battery.  Apparently, No phone for Bonzo- not yet, not today, maybe Tuesday…..  Did I mention some things are more challenging in the mountains?

Has anyone watched “The Patient” on Hulu……….  Role of a lifetime and show of the year………..  A rare piece of true small screen art………  Watch for coming review.

Is anybody watching the NBA playoffs?  Hard to maintain interest in June for the 50 million dollar men……….  It’s time for baseball, no?

Been trying to use speech recognition to offset constant stress of typing…. with mixed results.  While dictating this I coincidentally passed gas, resulting in the computer asking me “what was that?”

On the upside of mountain transitions, there is a fine dirt road waiting around every bend, the wonderfully empty Spring house at Okemo as my personal exercise facility and trails in the woods directly outside my door to romp down for my jogs…………  Not to mention the plethora of Creamee opps, shimmering lakes, regular jaunts to the one and only Ramuntos pizza, farmer’s markets ubiquitously placed and 85 degrees’ days with no humidity. 

Our mountain milieu provides a comforting safe harbor after the fruitless search for something resembling free lunch and a half day spent going to town for provisions, like some Friday night’s farmer’s ritual ….and then cruising Rutland’s’ miracle mile, back and forth, for hours on end, searching for one good thing…. left de circle…………….…right de circle……

Today we will try to connect with the legendary Trout King-to get The Pond its annual burst of macrobiotic energy in the form of his magic $300 secret bucket of nutrients, then a possible visit to a cancer ailing friend and the wiling away of what looks like a rainy day- such is a Sunday in the Greens.

Until we meet again can-just try and reach me…. if you can …. good luck with that.  Be well one and all.

Estuardo