Monday, May 7, 2012

Stream of Thoughts of Spring and Coming Summer


Climbing the stair master at our local gym, which is one of the most perfect gyms in the world, way beyond what a small town deserves, I flipped between two movies – Apocalypse Now and Music Man.  The time flew but I had a wicked headache when I got off the machine.
            The stair master is the closest thing there is to walking up a mountain.  Dwight “Dewey” Evans, probably the best right fielder in Red Sox history (with all due respect to Tony Conigliaro – we’ll never know), was an early adapter of this climbing machine.  I remember the controversy in the early-eighties when Dewey made the then-dead Sox drag his Stair Master around the league during the season.  I suppose hotel gyms were not so good back in the day.  At our awesome gym, called the Swimming Hole, an allusion both to rural landscape where we reside as well as the kick-ass Olympic size pool at the place, there are but two of us as far as I can tell who love the machine and we go to the gym at around the same time most days.  Maybe by writing about it the management will take pity and buy another one – or a ski erg.  Another great machine.
            When did our Swimming Hole change from a new sports facility in a rural town to an established, cherished institution in this almost-suburb?  I never knew we needed it but now I cannot imagine the town without it.  I don’t use it anywhere near as much as I should but I am darn glad it is there.
            I am not a diarist.  If I were it’d be easy to check this fact:  April has always been a cold month where we live.  There is typically snow on the ground through the month and the ski area is typically open and aiming for May.  We don’t usually start mowing our lawns until May.  We do not uncover let alone plant a garden until May.
It is not normal to be able to hike our mountains in April without trashing both hiking boots and trails due to wet conditions.  It is not normal to put in peas in March.  It is not normal to be sun burnt in April heading to May.  This all is not normal.
            Having said all that, and as you may remember from an earlier post now the peas are up (as are the lettuces, the collards, the spinach and some others), the sun is out and is bright, the lawn looks, to quote my son, “like the PGA.”  Can’t decide whether this is a good thing or not.  Kind of like watching Apocalypse Now and Music Man at the same time.  Weather as dissonance.
            And I’ll end this stream by quoting Katie Ives, editor at Alpinist magazine, a world class journal of mountaineering, writing, photography, illustration, and life, built with love just on the other side of our great mountain, now reachable by simple serpentine road rather than needing to drive around the edge of the world. 
Katie posted a note on Facebook (and I’ve come to peace with Facebook – it’s a cacophony of the inane but also not unlike, as a good friend put it, a coffee shop where you see familiar faces), commenting on the beauty of late-spring snow: 

Since last night’s storm, a layer of new snow lies across the hilltops, as brief and soft as the apple blossoms in the spring woods a shimmer of green rises from the valleys, with the sounds of water, growing brighter, and louder.

There is a thinness, a delicacy to spring and summer if you live in a cold place.  Katie, a much better writer, captures it.  I try to capture it here and there (take a look at the film I just posted about).  At the end though you cannot capture it; you have to go out and live it.


David Rocchio lives, works and writes in Stowe, Vermont. (c) 2012 David Rocchio

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