“Usually, deep in the heart of Vermont’s winter, the water is green, the ice green, the grass ... believe it or not, some of it is still green, under the snow. A day of thaw in the middle of February reminds us, how the season are tied, one to another. And to a golden, rushing river, weighted with minerals. The road, nearby, is split between towns, and then split again, by the National Forest. When one looks at the topographical map, there is an extensive beaver meadow, sort of hiding in plain sight, running south from here. Hard to reach, on foot, but the only way in, is pretty much ... on foot. I don’t know anyone, yet, who could take me in there. I’ve had a hard time meeting people. I’d rather just be assigned to a mystery crew, made a charter member. We’d be sent into the territory, and the smarter ones among us, would lead. I could be smarter, and in time, maybe I will be. It’s not for lack of trying. I can see things, from the road, that i can’t figure out how to access. But I feel it. And it’s a massive unknown. We should all understand, that we are living in a massive unknown. It’s not a bad thing, to enjoy our little outpost luxuries, like pulling in for gas, & picking up fast food, or feeling pride in the local things we have. In the grand scheme, we are lucky so far. No one is bombing us, though I admit they have been manipulating us. However, on a good day, I press down the throttle with a grand, entitled enthusiasm, as only one who has gas, and intent, can lay claim to. The turn at the corner, passing an estate, then another estate, and on into a lawless notch, triggers something unhinged in me. Those with the power to buy, do not necessarily inherit the ability to know. There are still things one must work for. And I’ve been working for it, all of my life. Nothing’s come to me, for free, except will. A royal flush of will, and little else. Maybe some piano inspiration, from my dad. But mostly, a bleak, unromantic terrain, full of land mines parading as my future. And as much as snow can be used as a metaphor for life, I did warm up the truck, finally, to meet the challenge of today’s minor blizzard, after giving it considerable thought. I know what can happen. I’ve had to abandon my vehicle, & plead incompetence, only to be pulled out by tractor power, thanks to the kindness of my neighbors. So I try to consider all of this, before launching my rig, in a white out. Which it was, and still is. My first day hosting Airbnb guests, driving from Boston, arriving late. I feel compelled to go to town to buy a welcome mat, equal to the influx of snow, rubberized & road worthy. For isn’t it all about moisture management, in the end. After days of dealing with construction debris, sawdust and insulation cut-offs, I’ve been hell bent to have at least one, habitable, special space. Not for me, but for you. If I can make you happy, and you follow the same golden rule, we should both end up in a very good place with each other. I miss everyone I’ve loved. And if they don’t know it, I can only assume we’ll catch up, on the flip side. That flip side is an annoying reality. Shoveling in near darkness tonight, fumbling with a hammer, and nails to secure a 911 address to my rental, I’m longing only for my soulmates.”
