Five minutes from home, the driver suddenly said:
“Let’s go look at the Rexleigh bridge!”
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Next thing, I was feeling the amazing sense of well-being that one only gets in Vermont.
(It’s not just me who says so)
True, the state-line is not far from home, but it is more than 5 minutes and we were headed in exactly the opposite direction.
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And I had told Willow that we’d be “right back”.
We were already earning penalties for late cat lunches, so another hour here or there…
It’s not as if they fret when we are late and hunger pangs? Oh I doubt it!
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We hadn’t been to Vermont lately, so maybe Jet took a wrong turn deliberately.
Jet is my car. Those are the letters on the license plate which I thought was appropriate for an ex-airline person.
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Whatever vague ideas I had entertained for afternoon functions were promptly abandoned.
Why get wound up?
My philosophy was always that if something needs doing, it should be done expeditiously.
Because you never know what may come along to snaffle your plans.
When it comes to filing tax returns or getting licenses renewed, I still adhere to this.
But sorting out my muddle?
Pfftt!
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Wishing to get a better view of the unidentifiable thing, I thought to employ my dad’s old binoculars.
But where were they?
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Where was I likely to have put them?
Desk drawer.
Rummage… Nope.
Roll-top desk? Nope.
Chests of drawers, cupboards…
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Rummage again in the desk drawer…
The binoculars aren’t particularly good and they aren’t a family heirloom with sentimental value, but at this point finding them was more important than having them, if you see what I mean.
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(A bird in hand is worth 50 on a powerline.)
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Usually, if I ask myself where I might have put an item – no, in truth that doesn’t always work…
For the third time I went to rummage through the desk drawer. Buried beneath stuff…binoculars.
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The trouble is, my idea of neat is if everything is put away. Out of sight.
Just don’t open a drawer or a cupboard.
That stuff in the desk drawer? I haven’t seen it for months, don’t need it…
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Occasionally, getting to this state, I decide to take action but then make the mistake of examining the superfluous items:
“Oh, hello! That’s where you were!”
or:
“I might need that!”
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…or…
“I should donate this to X,Y,Z.”
“This isn’t re-cyclable.”
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It makes me shudder when I realise how naive I was about rubbish, as in any discarded item.
Clothing, the one item I was careful to pass along to Goodwill or whatever the most convenient charity was, I now hear it is quite likely to be part of a mountain in the Atacama.
What?!
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But all that other stuff was taken away and disposed of. I didn’t ask how, but clearly I should have.
When I learned that garbage was being shipped abroad, I was stunned.
And then I felt so stupid. Why would I expect government to be responsible?
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Ranting about that is pointless.
And it’s not going to get my muddle organised.
Some months ago I decided it was time to sort out all the old loose photographs that are here and there in drawers and files and albums.
Thinking to sort them in categories, I began saving boxes. Which are now safely stashed…
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Meanwhile, in Vermont…
It seems to me that when we came this way last summer I declared that we would not be driving around these curves in winter.
But suddenly, here we were.
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As you can see though, the road was fine and we met no other vehicle.
There were some interesting icicles on the rock walls but it seemed inadvisable to stop.
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We had emerged into a familiar valley which looked very different backed by mist-clad hills.
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With the snow gone, the ground takes on a quite extraordinary hue.
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We headed south again.
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Along the Battenkill River and back into New York.
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Earlier on, I had said we ought to go have a look at another favourite tree, but we were on a parallel road, so we’d have to do it another day.
By the time the driver finished with his various detours, we found ourselves actually driving by it, but at this stage it was really quite late, so we didn’t stop for a decent photograph.
There are so many favourites] trees.
Truth is I appreciate them all.
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Coming back into Cambridge.
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Something else I need to do is figure out what has happened to the way my blog appears, which is not quite the way it looks to me as I set it up.
But for now I’m just happy not to get error responses.
I have always wondered why they covered the bridges. It seems pointless, and an added expense. Perhaps you know why?
As for recycling, this is the real world of what happens to it. As you can see, I wrote this in 2013. I doubt much has changed.
https://beetleypete.com/2013/01/08/recycling-my-arse/
Best wishes, Pete.
The bridges were covered to protect them from the elements which I guess made sense when they were mostly wood. The thing about re-cycling is a pet peeve. It seems to me that we should not manufacture items that are not re-usable and certainly not substances that are harmful to the planet (plastic!) But as you say, it’s all money.
Thank you, Carolyn, for your entertaining musing! I think I lost you somewhere on the way to see the bridge. I hope that the cats at least got their supper!
Joanna
You are going to have to pay a visit to the owner of the “unidentifiable thing”. We need to know!
I think you’re right Peter!
Haha, I’ve had a good laugh at you now wanting to do one thing (looking for binoculars), but then your attention is distracted by other stuff in the drawer … aren’t we all in some way like that (at least, it sounds familiar to me)! The road between the rocks in Vermont is beautiful. And I love the mist above the hills – you guys are truly a beautiful time of Winter now.