Thirty Seven!

Who knew it could feel so warm?  My nose didn’t freeze walking up the hill today.  Gulf Road was quite clear.  The snow plow uncovered the dead leaves and mud at the side of the road, and where the cars drive the snow had turned to slush.  The slush is slippery, and I paid attention to every step.  It’s Saturday, so folks are running errands.  I was passed by two pickups and an Outback on my 45 minute walk.  Traffic!  The noise!  The smell of exhaust!  But gone in a moment with a neighborly wave, and peace returns.

At the top of Gulf Road, where it meets Scotch Hill Road, the town of Hartwick ends, and Burlington begins.  Across the road a sign identifies 1,242 acres of Hartwick State Forest, under the control of the Department of Conservation.  I try not to think about Bears Ears and all the damage Trump’s Department of the Inferior is doing, but I can’t avoid it.  We have such riches to protect for ourselves and those who come after us, and it is so foolish to squander them when they could so easily continue to be protected. Such a very few people are enriched by this waste, and so very many are impoverished. Still, there is a piece of State Forest that’s safe, and there are many more. And the Trump administration won’t last forever.

Walking up the hill, looking at the great tree just past the top and all the bare trees I pass, I think of my mother, as I usually do when I don’t know the name of something she would have known.  She was a wonderful, patient teacher, and I wish I had paid better attention.  She was about the age I am now when she stopped walking.  She had loved tromping through the Amenia woods, and knew where and when everything bloomed – the turks cap lilies, the hepaticas, the spotted wintergreen. I think she was about 70 when she stopped taking those hikes.  I wish I could ask her if she had the same arthritis in her hip that I had.  Hip replacements were certainly less common when she turned 70, but also, she had a kind of fatalism.  Watching the last part of her life, seeing the impact that giving up walking had on her, I was so determined not to give in to that pain.  I’m far from the shape I want to be in, but I know it’s within reach.

It was our third Saturday morning at the Farmers Market. We brought home beets, fat sweet carrots, potatoes, mushrooms and parsnips. We bought granola, bagels, rye bread, eggs, and cheese.  It’s nothing like the summer market, but there’s plenty to enjoy and we’ve started to recognize the people we buy from.  The bagels were surprisingly good, and I know from tasting that the cheddar and gouda, locally made, are delicious. It’s Winter Carnival this weekend, and with the warm(er) weather people seemed cheerful and thawed out. We came home and roasted half the vegetables.  The rest will be soup later in the week. Jay made split pea soup. Delicious. We’re eating a lot less meat, and it’s very satisfying.

This evening Jasmine came down to show us her outfit for the school dance. I have no wish to be young again, certainly not to endure the torture of a school dance, but it’s sweet to watch Jasmine enjoying this time in her life.