Carrick and Duncan returned home Friday afternoon, leaving Deirdre and me about 24 hours to ourselves. We basically vegged out. When the sun came out Saturday, Deirdre took her laptop to the porch. I worked out in the backyard, did some meditating, then took the camera down to the lily pond. It is a world if its own; I could have spent days there. I must have been offline for, oh, five hours. Amazing. And, according to Deirdre, against type (while, I point out, she typed away on her iBook).
I also dipped into seven different books over the 10 days. …
We set out about 2 p.m. for an ambitious circular swing through Hunter, Kaaterskill Falls, Saugerties and a couple of destinations near to it. It had been raining on and off all day, but lightly, and we hoped to take a few hikes of a mile or so each.
Duncan drove, as he did yesterday, and I am resigned to my new role in the back seat. (What's not to like? The scenery is certainly more enjoyable when one does not have to keep one's eye on the narrow, curving roads, and at night, I pulled out my iPod Touch and, with a shuffle of Rickie Lee Jones songs playing in the background, I read a Jack Reacher novel on …
Duncan and Carrick drove up Monday night to meet us at the house outside of Roxbury. It's actually in a hamlet I'd never heard of called Denver. Having read the weather report for the rest of the week was dicey, we decided to take a hike on Tuesday. With cyberspace beckoning, however, we didn't get going until a few hours after the crack of noon.
Woodstock, like Carmel,
tries too hard to be
what it thinks it was.
Dueling Bob Marley posters
and acid rock T shirts
hang off wooden porches on which,
they would like you to imagine,
Joni Mitchell might have written
a tune or two.
But she's long gone.
As Jeffers is from Carmel.
And people like us
come to gaze
at people like us
who came to graze.
And it's all somehow
so we flee to the mall
on the strip in Kingston
which looks like Central Ave.,
and watch the prequel
to Star Trek,
We arrived in the nick of time yesterday: Dave Krajicek and Hector Mendez were putting the finishing touches on a new floor in Carlos' bedroom at his country house in Delhi, N.Y., and there was little to do except what we always have done. For all of our efforts, the world is no doubt a better place this morning and, as we discovered to our amazement a few decades ago, no hangovers need be involved. We shall resume the conversations with Carlos, Dave and Hector at the house we are renting near Roxbury tonight, and Carrick and Duncan will join us after they get off work. …