I arrived at an expensive camp in the Adirondacks just after 8:00 last night. Before I even found my site Bobby started barking which he hardly ever does. Not a good sign. When I awoke this morning at 7 something, all I could hear was the roar of cars. As I recall from last night, this is just a country kind of highway but it already sounds too crowded. I can't wait to get back out on the road and beyond. The only reason I'm going to go further south is that I do want to drive down the Hudson River for a while and see where all those paintings were birthed, also try to visit a museum in Beacon (?) that Jenny says I should see. Then on to visit Leah in Oberlin.
Even the wifi is crowded here, I think. Very slow to react. Vermont spoiled me in every possible way. Their wifi was quick to respond. The people were so friendly, helpful, food good in a neat little restaurant call "Squares" in Virgennes (sp)where I had a wonderful baby arugula salad with chicken and a drink called "sipping chocolate." That was a meal in itself. Thick and peppery. What character. People across the street in a park were having some kind of farmers' market and cooked goodies. Just ate an almond croissant which I bought from a man who also sold me a wonderful multigrain baguette. When the veggie man next to him, from whom I had already bought cherry tomatoes and a late summer squash, heard me answer the baker about my trip, he insisted on giving me some Vermont apples and some lovely little gypsy peppers. When I returned from the restaurant they had recommended, a man was peering through the window of the Realta and marveling over its miniaturization compared to the giants that are traveling the highways these days. We had a nice conversation and off I went into my last taste of rural Vermont.
There are stretches where there will be one house in the middle of ten acres, sitting on a gentle knoll or overlooking a perfect pond. Then there would be fields of the ubiquitous crop I have yet to identify. It looks like corn stalks but no corn, and only a five or six inch sprig of something at the very top. Help me someone. Can't you please tell me what it is? The big farms from Quebec to Vermont all have tall receptacles for some form of this product, which are not coned like the tin man ones you see for grains, but domed. What does that mean. Is it for some kind of oil? I know I should have taken the time to Google it long ago. I'm a bit too much on the run. Anyway the land is divided between this crop and then miles of green velvet rolling country with a few trees and looking like it's all just been mowed. Very soothing.
Yesterday I heard from Francisco and Art that someone has stolen all my pears. Who would do such a thing? Such a violation. It's time for me to get back home even though it sounds like my town is in an uproar over something going on at the Senior Center. Much heavily to do about it but absolutely no one coming out and stating what it's really all about. Maybe I should stay on the road. The Japanese Braiding (Kumihimo) festival is the main reason I have to return. I host it the week of Oct. 21st. Must get home to clean house, clean studio, prepare for the workshop and begin to make soups. Better do my chores here, disconnect my hoses and be on my way.
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