“I woke up to ice on my car this morning and it’s too soon, right? I don’t want to be a big cry baby, really I don’t. But if we’re going to talk about how a world run by women might be better, certain things pop. They came with the trailer and loaded my broken down Subaru in a cold rain, trouble shooting a locked wheel, then getting it loaded and secured. This has such a different feeling to it, say, than guys who think they are rock stars showing up for a gig in bad weather without the right microphone. The former group is not really expecting much of anything, certainly not accolades, a class of guys that will also fix your mower. Or try to. And I have to admit, I’m totally loving this enterprising, somewhat hidden demographic. Because in anyone’s post-divorce chaos, there’s a tendency to self-punish with an I’ll do it the hard way just to make sure you don’t screw me ... approach. You don’t want to rely on anyone who might suddenly be an asshole, and you might not be ready to notice the good people out there, who are also licking wounds. The harder it rains, the longer it takes to believe in the sun. Yet, good souls hunker down and keep going. They can go for a long, long time, without much love. I’m just amazed it wasn’t the solinoid & that the switch was merely corroded. I have a lot of work to do before the snow flies, but cleaning old gas out of carburetors totally isn’t in my wheel house. The new Vermontia may hire me to be president of a watershed or queen of a mountain pass, but I still won’t want to be the one to pour Sta-bil down the funnel. That’s just me. Whoever can handle advanced fuel combustion, is welcome to have at it. I’ll stick to wood fires, heating soapstone, stoking the blaze under cast iron pots of steaming soup, turning root crops & herbs into hearty tonics for the spirit. I’ll hang boughs and baskets and surprise you with dried flowers & inspired illumination - during holidays, or just when you’re down. Simple things, that quickly add up to tenderness in the tragedy of the world.”
