Today was one of those extraordinary spring days that makes me happy I live in Vermont. It was sunny, clear and warm and Cally and I were on a mission. After having breakfast with Katy, I loaded our friend Spencer's truck for a dump run, clicked Peanut into her seat & pulled down the sun shade, loaded Zephyr (our dog) into the back (always takes longer than I'd like) and rolled down the driveway toward the Lee River. It was bright and sunny at 8:30, the birds were active and green was struggling to appear everywhere. I slid on the sun glasses, checked Cally in the rearview and took a nice long swig from the thermal mug...the world was seeming super bright this morning and I'm pretty sure it wasn't just the coffee.
It seemed like everywhere Cal and I went today we saw someone we knew...and everyone was excited to be soaking the sun and warmth. We started at the bakery in Richmond, the go to for cup #2. Cally and I saw Brendan working the counter...he's my friend Angies' son and i've known him since he was a wee lad. He had the late Fela Kuti pumping through the speakers and made Cally smile and squeak...I took a picture of her on the front stoop.
Next we spotted activity in Catherine and Tyler's front yard and decided to investigate. Turned out it was Kathy Hill doing some gardening as a barter for Cath's web design help for her business. She is a knitter who gave Cally a beautiful sweater & hat from her collection last week. Cally was kind of sleeping, but Zephy was active. We talked about how nice the sun was and doggie development. Cathy and her husband Chris have a challenging dog too...his name is Cruiser.
Up the road into the village I had to drop off the rear wheel of my mountain bike at Richmond Bikes...Gene Bell's shop. Gene's shop is the center of the local biking universe and he's the mechanic in demand. He was sitting on his stoop soaking the sun. It looked like he was opening a paint can from a distance... it turned out he was opening a quart of yogurt (he swear it lasts three days). The local lawyer, David Sunshine, walked by and gave a "good day". Not shitting here folks, it's his real name... A good omen or what?
Next we were off to the dump. Zephy was psyched for the dog bones the man in the cashier kiosk always gives her. I humped everything into the crusher dumpsters then dropped over to the recycled goods shed while Cally slept. The old man with the ever weekend yard sale in jericho center was there, hawking anything of interest as usual.
Finally we off on the open road for Huntington, the place I once called home and the town I love the most in Vermont. Cally was, well, napping the whole time. We passed the kids from the Youth Conservation Corps doing projects in the sun at the Monitor Barn, some folks from Fish and Wildlife doing fish samples in the lower Huntington River, saw geese passing through on Gillette Pond and noticed the syrup had all been made for this sugaring season at Purinton's (a good one it's been)!
We pulled into Huntington and topped off the tank at Beaudry's store. Linda always catches me up on her son's coaching accomplishments and Terry and I always talk a little Red Sox. He's been suffering from Alzheimer's disease the past 2 years and not as animated recently. The drive up the Huntington River Valley is just beautiful and brings back great memories of the thousands of times in all seasons I made this drive...but never with Cally in the backseat.
My friend David Reynolds is an English teacher and poet who lives in Colorado Springs Colorado. We went to college together, studied English Literatue together and had the same thesis advisor. He sent me a poem of his the other day about the arrival of spring and I thought of it while looking up to the still snowy peak of Camel's Hump:
Crocus
The crocus stuck their heads up last week,
little baseball mitts of yellow.
So delicate with their papery
petals and petite height (no taller than a jar of baby food)
Yet also hardy, these first ones,
the pioneers in the flower world,
to brave March’s chill and snow.
I remember planting the bulbs,
acorn sized nuggets of promise.
A fall day of family and low sun
as we dug can-sized holes in the dirt
and placed each bulb, just so,
delicately and facing heaven.
What nourished them? November
and December with their rough, bare winds?
Leaves and needles fell; holiday music faded,
and the wars raged on without protest.
Little moisture fell, the earth cracked,
yet the bulbs stirred, the bulbs stirred.
And soon the autumnal eggs shot forth runners
Who reached for the light, for the warmth of hope.
And now these petals of blue and yellow and red
Brighten even the most somber of March moods.
