Last Day on the Mountain
The past week has been one spectacular day after another. the air is just so- all blue sky and gentle breezes. The weekend was that again and more, so a trip to Salisbury to attend Bill Binzen's funeral was a pleasure. It wasn't sad to know he is gone now. He had lived a long and full life and has a family full of loving memories of days spent together. It was a celebration of his life. Sun streamed into the windows of the Congregational church, the hymns were heartfelt and it was a peaceful blessed gathering.
After the service, I went up the Mountain with Barbara and Curry, two of the best ladies I know. Mother and daughter, they have a sweet dance that they do to navigate their relationship. I sat in the back seat and listened to them. "Do you have the key?" -"Yes, the key is here," Curry patiently replied then turned her head a bit to fill me in with the saga of the misplaced key. Barbara quiet, not interjecting with her usual impatience at this thing or that. I forget that this woman is 94 years old. We are going to the cabin to find her sweaters, hopefully left there at the end of summer. She feels the cold of winter coming and wants them before the first snow arrives. I don't ask, but it appears that Barbara is still driving, though not today. But the car is still here. This information is not surprising yet still makes me want to get out of town quick! Barbara was a woman who loved her car, hopping in to zoom down to Greenwich for bridge, next Manhattan, then to the Mountain. As kids, we would always appreciate the red car's arrival as she barreled up the drive, hand on the suicide knob attached to the wheel. She was no sissy when driving the Hutchison to make supper and the weekend in Connecticut. Move over world, here comes Barbar.
The lake has been lowered drastically to inspect the old dam. It is a topic of conversation for us all.There are problems and the powers that be have insisted upon plans for repair. This is just the first step, this draining of the Upper Lake. The stark shoreline and the contiguous blaze of rocky shingle out by the islands, around the length of the lakes perimeter, seem other worldly and barren, perfect companions to the bare trees of late autumn and the coming winter. Camps closed early because there was no water to wash or drink. A shame, as this fall was a showstopper, full of warm days and cool night. Perfect for a day on the porch with a book and an evening by the fire, with that book I mentioned earlier!
Glad to had seen the camp buttoned up nicely, wood ready for next year and water drained. The pump is still to come up, but that, Dan assures me, will happen this week.
After the service, I went up the Mountain with Barbara and Curry, two of the best ladies I know. Mother and daughter, they have a sweet dance that they do to navigate their relationship. I sat in the back seat and listened to them. "Do you have the key?" -"Yes, the key is here," Curry patiently replied then turned her head a bit to fill me in with the saga of the misplaced key. Barbara quiet, not interjecting with her usual impatience at this thing or that. I forget that this woman is 94 years old. We are going to the cabin to find her sweaters, hopefully left there at the end of summer. She feels the cold of winter coming and wants them before the first snow arrives. I don't ask, but it appears that Barbara is still driving, though not today. But the car is still here. This information is not surprising yet still makes me want to get out of town quick! Barbara was a woman who loved her car, hopping in to zoom down to Greenwich for bridge, next Manhattan, then to the Mountain. As kids, we would always appreciate the red car's arrival as she barreled up the drive, hand on the suicide knob attached to the wheel. She was no sissy when driving the Hutchison to make supper and the weekend in Connecticut. Move over world, here comes Barbar.
The lake has been lowered drastically to inspect the old dam. It is a topic of conversation for us all.There are problems and the powers that be have insisted upon plans for repair. This is just the first step, this draining of the Upper Lake. The stark shoreline and the contiguous blaze of rocky shingle out by the islands, around the length of the lakes perimeter, seem other worldly and barren, perfect companions to the bare trees of late autumn and the coming winter. Camps closed early because there was no water to wash or drink. A shame, as this fall was a showstopper, full of warm days and cool night. Perfect for a day on the porch with a book and an evening by the fire, with that book I mentioned earlier!
Glad to had seen the camp buttoned up nicely, wood ready for next year and water drained. The pump is still to come up, but that, Dan assures me, will happen this week.
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