“For me, it was the first pizza take-out, in about five years. It would be a long story to explain why. If I were to write a book, this would likely be a very interesting section. But, as for today, let’s just say that the idea of pizza was fast becoming the centerpiece of my day. Working up to the moment of pickup, we decided upon a mild diversion, hiking up into a large sugarbush, studied on maps. We’d brought snow shoes, but who wants to wear snow shoes, if you can get away with not wearing snow shoes. The lower road was dry, well on its way to spring, what you might consider hiking boot conditions. Even with unknown paths in front of me, I often forget to eat, or bring water. I don’t know exactly which past life this might pertain to, maybe one or two, in which deprivation & endurance was the norm. However, in this life, with a fat belly full of yesterday’s good nutrition, I wasn’t worried. Despite what anyone might think, I’m a very conservative trail blazer. And I store energy well. So when it’s time to turn on the gas, I’m rarely caught up short. Okay, I’ve been known to throw myself over a cliff or two, blind. However, I assure you, this is not a contradiction in my nature. My practical self is always looking at the bigger picture. I eat a lot, when I can. Then, when I can’t, I’ve got a few calories to spare. I was ready for a longer exploration, maybe even up to the ridge, but that would have been ridiculous given the conditions. “There’s the fork in the road, on the map,” he said. We stopped to look, as the dogs charged forward. “Too much snow,” I said, although it was a totally superfluous commentary. The forest was still, no wind, hardly a wisp of downdraft off the presidential peaks. Sometimes the mute lack of talk amongst trees is not altogether inviting. But nothing appeared to be amiss. I gestured towards the sound of the stream. “Let’s duck under this pipeline,” I said, heading towards the reassuring rush of water. We hopped over a few logs, and crunched along, The hidden crevice was not hard to find. I crouched to angle my camera above a stump to view the crest of a tumbling waterfall, pressing my knee into the crusty snow, & catching a sudden whiff of skunk. For a moment, I sat back, to revel in the scent. Did the dogs get into something? Just one of many aromas to be savored, a passing tone. Like crushed hemlock or balsam needles ground between fingers, or the pulse of rotten log, dark & fluffy, soft, and dank, newly overturned. My nostrils took another pull, taking stock of the woods essence like food. The dogs were happy. We were happy. While tramping out, returning to our original coordinates, under the light of blue sugar line, I was still happy. A perfect day, indulging in the luxury of not being in danger of starvation . From the ions of mountain water spray waking the lungs, to the visual imbibing of delicate buds, or in the touching, frozen pine sap tears, known as woods’ empathy, making everything so impartial & sure, like the stepping stone roots of creek fed conifers, and all of it, a stairway. Only a 15 minute drive to our rendezvous, with man made ecstasy, a.k.a. pizza.”
