“I rarely throw food out the window, but I did, feeling bad as I did it. Driving at 40 mph by some ditches, way off the beaten track. You have to practice your aim, to perfect this maneuver. It was my friend’s quiche, and frankly, the lack of salt & flavor took me by surprise. I’m not a picky eater. But something about it just tasted wrong. Sometimes we have to act independently wise, flying in the face of food stuffs we’ve come to rely upon. Or health practices, we once considered sound. I feel a lot of things, working in dirt, day in, day out. Today pounded it home. As I masticate on future plots of novels I am hoping to write, I pour cold water onto tiny Zinnias, Gazanias & struggling shrubs. I shovel out enriched composted soil, between Iris, daylily, & autumn aster. I fertilize, with various powdered or granulated meals, though the heat makes it an extra odious chore. I listen to an audio book, taking plot points, from time to time, making mental notes. My long time client arrives midday, with his dog, and I realize again, I’ve parked my truck in a position that makes it difficult for him to park in his own garage. Sometimes I could kick myself. But it’s too hot to kick myself, I think the day has already earned certain exceptions to most rules. Such heat, into the 90s F. My little lunch box with ice packs, water & juice stowed in the garage, on cold cement floors. Needing to think, from time to time, collapsing onto the stone steps on the north side of the house, under an overhang. Good place to pick up WiFi, which as an Airbnb host, I guess I’m obliged to. Modern life is a confluence of all the worst & best of what you thought might happen. It doesn’t exactly tire me, but I do have to recover from it. People are babies, who tantrum, and then, appear beatifically radiant, next round. I could venture to say, we’re all in this crap shoot together. I admit, like any questing fool, I took to mapping a short cut, with my cousin, this last weekend. We had in our sights, the very point where the Long Trail, and Appalachian Trails diverge. Sounds a bit romantic, in addition to a supposed terminus, of the North Country Trail, hailing from S. Dakota, via Michigan. I felt pretty smart, locating the condo roads, across from Pico Ski Area, that seemed to offer us a way in to the labeled pin. Fast forward, and we’re heading compass north, trudging along a rocky path, without a clue of how it could relate to our initial inquiry. I guess I should. have known something was up, when the condo tenant at the dead end looked so clueless. “Why are there “No Parking” signs up here?” I asked, innocently. “The map shows that we’re just a stone’s throw from this critical junction”, I said. She was wan, with the disoriented look of someone who has always worked indoor jobs. I just wanted to hug her. I wanted to take her for a picnic. She was talking to a guy, who’d parked his truck and trailer in the same “No Parking” zone. “I don’t know, “ she said. “The road crew has to turn around here” she said. I pondered, for a moment. It being Memorial Day, a holiday, I knew no town crew was likely to bring trucks up here today. “Okay, I said reassuring her,” we’ll just run in and back out, in no time. The map makes it look like it’s .1 mile. We just want to take a photo at the North Country Trail terminus”. It was true. We just wanted a photo of Dave, in front of the sign we thought was there. But no sign was there. We hiked for an hour, north. We saw signs for a privy, but no indication of a sign. I know enough about tramping around the Green Mountains, that things aren’t always well marked. “Dave,” I said, “I think we’re not going in the right direction”. He being a seasoned protege of my uncle, the famous Uncle Roland of Sierra Club service trips, replied “Yes’. We shared a few laughs. It was another crazy trip, without enough intel. That’s how we roll, evidently. The clan I come from is jolly enough, is reckless, and feckless enough, to clamber up Tibetan peaks, with unreliable guides. But on this one, we came out sort of still having fun and being silly. Okay, not lost. “Not Lost”. That’s maybe what i will call this post.”
