“Some people I know are expert vacation-takers. They’ve learned, thru study, or practice, heredity or privilege, to avail themselves to pacts of rest and time off, as a given. I bow to them, deeply. I admit, honestly, I don’t know how it’s done. Some of us, never got the memo. We have never identified as anything but scramblers, workaholics, and boring stay-cationers. As to our monetary flow, we’ve never been boastful, or had enough to fuel full-fledged dreamscapes awash with Icelandic horses, Parisian cafes, Patagonian treks, or Balinese health retreats. Even thinking locally, we’ve never had access to family hunting camps, fishing clubs, remote access enclaves, summer homes, uninhabited islands, or free time. Actually, we think in terms of stealing moments: minutes, hours, a day, and a half, tops. An experience of “the good life” for us, is brief. But this is no diatribe. I’m one of the luckiest Vermonters, and I know it. My whole working life, has been filled with play. And frankly, that’s how I planned it, before I knew I was planning it, and even now, I can hardly believe how beautiful my life has become. A little persistence at doing one thing, it seems, has paid off, over time. And yet that one thing, itself, is still hard to describe. Was it my predilection to sit in the dirt, or amongst the flowers, or play my guitar in stairwells? Did I excel at pulling grass, or at replanting something that was almost dead, or maybe salvage a song that was not that great to begin with? Maybe the best thing I ever did, in pursuit of great art, was to tell the truth: your job sucked. Or I didn’t say that, and instead, gave every sign and show of support. Do you see how malleable I may have been? Like some grifter, saying anything, or whatever, just to get a meal on the table, or a child to bed. I’ve had to wiggle myself free of many false promises, and suffer the blows of false friendships, from people I genuinely thought I liked, or loved. I won’t take any of that love back. You can have it, you idiots. The enormous sky I see, is still, that enormous. We pulled up dwarf Hosta, Solomon’s seal, Sweet Woodruff, Painted Fern, Bugbane, reorganized a bed overlooking the most remarkable, wide, autumnal expanse of Lake Champlain, today, then dug out Lily-of-the-valley, Euphorbia, and ornamental ginger, to replant, or discard, as we saw fit ... with hardly a breeze. Now, finally, showers are dampening the hill country. I made it home, in a rental car. My truck is still in the shop, for the second week. May this night release me from all unwanted BS, and cleanse my spirit, and embrace the silent rain.”
