|Bryan Nelson Elder CC BY-SA 3.0|
SUMMER ESCAPES FROM THE CRAZINESS,
Accompanied by the Youngest and the Husband
My husband was supposed to be volunteering in Mongolia this summer and was attempting to lure me along. Needless to confess, the woes of the virus kept us in the Village of Cooperstown. And we had some luck, as it was the prettiest summer in 22 years, sunny and warm and blooming. And now the maples are coloring up, and I suppose the last vestige of summer will end on Tuesday....
SYRACUSE, NEW YORK
Frolics to amuse our youngest:
a. ghost golf;
b. mirror maze;
c. go karts;
d. Dinosaur BBQ.
All very mask-y and socially distanced, yes.
The leaves are turning, so the seasons must still be in order. No I did not see the Lake Champlain monster. Had good meals at Hen of the Wood, Bangkok Bistro, and Skinny Pancake. College protests all started with "Oink, oink" and continued in the usual fashion. Lovely swings by the lake, not far from the Requisite Edge-of-Campus Encampment with garbage and fancy tents. Ah, sunsets!
ESSEX, NEW YORK
Lovely ferry ride from Charlotte, Vermont to Essex. And Essex (1765) is wonderfully charming and ancient in the American way (that is, not that old for most parts of the world but ancient for us, meaning lots of pre-Civil War architecture and still intact.) Octagonal private schoolhouse! (And oddly, another one out in the countryside, but made of stone. And that one in 1826 seems about a quarter-century too early for octagons.) Lots of Greek Revival, federal, and Georgia architecture. Cunning library. Gardens still in full blow, with lots of Japanese anemones and butterfly bushes and salvia, etc. The earliest surviving house appeared to be 1780's...
Had a good lunch relaxing in squishy chairs overlooking the lake at the Pink Pig. And we had our more-than-fair share of gorgeous sunshine, colored leaves, deep blue water, and good company.
FIRST EVER KAREN ENCOUNTER
Curious village-anthropology incident... After lunch, we had an exciting Karen Encounter while rambling along the street drinking our respective beverages, masks in hands. Although a good ten feet away from any other human being, we were chided at some length to socially distance and put on our masks. I'm afraid we responded by veering a few more inches away to make sure we did not accidentally tumble into the careful shop lady's place of business.
Of evolving anthropological interest: she did have the requisite long bob of Karen fame.
Receding in memory, but it was good to see ocean, admire architecture, wolf excessive amounts of seafood out-of-doors on piers and decks, sniff hard at the salt air through our masks, and march indefatigably all over town.
Also, I just barely missed stepping on a dirty needle near the Portland Encampment in my sandals--and barely missing is excellent, infinitely better than not missing at all. Tents were definitely not of the fancy Burlington Encampment variety.
Notable: the famous potato doughnuts with interesting Maine flavors (wild blueberry, maple, lemon-ginger lobster, hermit armpit, moose, etcetera.)
THOU LAZY BAGGAGE, READ!
Unrelated news: If you are like most of the population in northern and southern hemispheres, you may not have read my new novel yet. Please do. Charis in the World of Wonders is a better escape from Covid19 than ghost golf, potato doughnuts, and a ferry ride rolled into one enticing ball. (In fact, there are ferries in Charis in the World of Wonders, but no ghost golf and no potato doughnuts or, indeed, doughnuts of any kind. There is a tray of bride cakes, however.)
If you have already escaped massacre and horrid frontier-village dangers (Goody-Karens, witchcraft, magistrates, and so on), then I suggest you time travel back a year and read The Book of the Red King.
I've rather lost track of comments by writers, but here's a lovely one from poet Mischa Willett of Washington State. If you earnestly and sincerely and greatly desire more (i.e. more reasons to readreadread), check out the book page.
(Willett, Willett... Long ago, I lived on Willett St. in Albany--my first two children were born there. It was near the Psychiatric Center, and I had many odd adventures with people in the park across the street from our apartment. Like Central Park, it's an Olmstead-designed park. In case you are wondering, I expect that probably has nothing to do with Mischa Willett. Oh, there's a new Willettian work: The Elegy Beta. And I am reading and liking it this week, so I am glad Mischa found my novel because that meant I found The Elegy Beta.)
Post-detour: finally, here's the tweet! With Mischa's curtain, lamp, clock, and copy of Charis.