Hiking In The Dark; Talking To Owls

There is a mountain across town from our house called Mount Worcester.  It is small by global standards -- just over 3,400 feet -- but it is steep and wooded and interesting to climb.  North of Worcester along the ridge is a knoll called Stowe Pinnacle.  It is just that; a pinnacle of rock looking across the valley where sits our town.  The Mansfield Range is to the west.  It is a beautiful spot.

The Pinnacle trail meanders and climbs aggressively to the ridge of the Worcesters.  When our son, Cal, was five, as we were lying about in the back late on a beautiful early fall day, the sky a blistering blue and the air dry, he said he wanted to climb a mountain.  We'd not done anything but chores all that day and a hike was a great idea.  I did not wait for discussion but jumped up, kissed Jackie and the baby and grabbed my boy, an apple and a small bottle of water.  We were off.

As I said the day was fading but the sun was still bright.  I was not worried about a late start.  I figured we'd hike about a mile into the hardwood forest, through the meadow and up the gentle trail built on old logging roads and then we'd stop where the trail takes a steep turn upward and scrambles into some ledge cliffs where steep stone stairs have been rolled and pushed and ground into place over the years.  I assumed we'd stop at this rise, drink some water, share the apple and head back toward home.  I was wrong.

Yard Sales and Memories

 For five years or so we have committed regularly to a yard sale.  “This Memorial Day!” we exclaim, and then don’t.  “Labor Day for sure!” we commit, and let it slide.  But houses fill up and then it seems the house will sink into the ground if we don't bail it out. 

So early Saturday morning there we were putting stickers on mugs I do not think I had ever seen before and nailing “Yard Sale” signs to telephone poles (I know, we’re not supposed to).  We pulled what seemed enough stuff to fill a boxcar out of the house and set it all out on makeshift tables constructed with plywood and saw horses.

Notes from the Toronto International Film Festival

I went to the Toronto Film Festival to talk about a film I wrote and plan to make this winter or next.  I have been putting together the film for a while, and working at the festivals is hard.  It is in fact somewhat insane in the particular. The activity is anarchic.  It can almost be chaos.  Chaos theory, which states random actions – chaos – have a purpose and are a system, is in play in the film industry.

Stepping back from the particular though, the festivals – and the process of building a film –make sense.  The end result of the chaos is the creation of teams, which work to make films.  The films eventually come back to the festival and can be overwhelmingly beautiful and powerful.  Chaos theory in action.

This festival I carved out time to see films.  I have not done that before; I have been surrounded by films at festivals but simply went from meeting to meeting.  I felt guilty going to see movies when I could be working.  I decided in Toronto I needed to take the time to see why I was doing what I was doing.  There are two films I saw which have stuck with me.

Kids Off To School

I took this picture of the kids heading off to the bus on the first day of school.  We’ve been driving them to school since Cal was going to kindergarten, so it was a big change. Now that Cal wants to take the bus so does his younger sister.  Once they'd left for school I went inside and looked at the NYT’s on line.  The Times was asking for back to school photos for their website, so I downloaded this snap and sent it in.  

I sent them it in with a caption something like ‘the kids decide to take the bus after five years of us driving them each morning. Off they go, in more ways than one.’

I did not know the paper had posted the photo and the caption until I received an e-mail from a reader of the Times.  From Hong Kong.  It was a sweet note thanking us for a beautiful image and sentiment.  It struck me and made me incredibly happy that a simple, joyful image of kids growing up touched a couple so far away.
David Rocchio lives, works and writes in Stowe, Vermont. (c) 2010 David Rocchio

Radio Post: Gardens, Chickens and Eating Local

To listen to this week's radio essay from WDEV, courtesy of WDEV/Radio Vermont, please click on the title to the post.

I am enjoying writing for radio.  It is hard.  Four hundred words maybe isn't a tweet but it's still a short little essay.  Let me know what you think.


David Rocchio lives, works and writes in Stowe, Vermont. (c) 2010 David Rocchio