Up for the Season

This past weekend Laurie and I moved all the patio furniture off the balcony and into the garage. The morning glories are all black and scary looking and it’s cold enough now that the balcony holds little appeal besides the evil pleasure of watching the cats run outside at the first opportunity only to turn right around and start pawing at the glass to be let back in.

We took advantage of what little warmth there is left and went kayaking one last time on Sunday, the last day before the canoe club closes for the year. It was a quick outing, because when I say “what little warmth there is left,” I mean very little warmth. It was pretty cold and to make things worse, the paddles that come with the rental kayaks don’t have drip guards, so I got quite wet. I’d still say it was worth it, though. The Connecticut has meant a lot to me during my time here, and I needed one last look. It was quite overcast with big, gloomy cumulonimbus clouds hanging above making the water dark and slatey, but enough little beams of light broke through at oblique angles to light up the fall colors in the low trees along the banks, making for a striking and unusual effect. The wind was pretty strong, blowing mostly downstream, and whenever we stopped to float for a while – which one wants to do every so often, just to have a good look at the scenery – we’d start turning in circles. I’ve got a hell of a blister just from controlling the boat on the paddle back in. Laurie’s kayak (she has her own) is now parked in the garage until spring.

Saturday night, I went to a "cabin-closing" party hosted by a guy who lives in a hunting cabin deep in the woods during the summer and then moves into a winterized but much less charming house in White River Junction for the winter. Hearty stews (his discription, but I have to admit, they WERE pretty hearty) and mulled cider were the fare, and the smokers and antisocials (like me) huddled around a fire outside for as long as we could stand the cold. It was hard to leave the Vermont night sky for the warm indoors, because it, like the Connecticut River, is something I know I won't be getting much of once I move. Which reminds me, if you're going to stand out in the cold looking at the sky, go to a party with a lot of science nerds. The last one I went to was during the big Mars thing, and somebody actually brought out their own telescope, a serious one. Not only did I see Mars, but its moons as well.

It was snowing this morning when I went down to start the car. It usually snows a little before Halloween, but it just seems too early this year. I didn’t think I’d be here this long, so I optimistically packed most of my heavy clothes away (even though I’m only moving to New York. I know. Shut up.) and had to go digging through some boxes in the garage. I still don’t know where my gloves are. I’m feeling kind of bad that I’m going to be here for at least part of another winter; it’d been my goal to be gone before I had to deal with any more snow. I really wasn’t up for another winter here but now I’ll have to find a way to deal with it or ignore it long enough to finish my shit and get out.

I’ve enjoyed sometimes making fun of how much people here dwell on the weather. I know a lot of people here who watch the Weather Channel like it’s… regular teevee, and the weather reports on Vermont public radio are remarkable – on week mornings, they take up a good 25 minutes of every hour during the drivetime shows. To make things worse, on the radio they also have these long commentaries by local people who invariably wax poetic – uh, kind of like I did above – about the changing seasons. But you know, when the seasons beat you over the head like they do here, you just can’t help it. Being plunged into darkness for 6 months at a time (to be charitable) has an effect on your worldview, there’s no two ways about it, and you just have to talk it through. In a little while, I hope, my winter ruminations will be about steam gratings and chestnut stands instead of snow and darkness, and maybe if I’m lucky, in a little while longer, they’ll be about the Berkeley hills turning green again.