Such a Rain!

The weather prediction for the NYS CapDist and southern Adirondacks called for 35 to 50˙ temperatures and a regular ole downpouring of the wetness.

We enjoyed the temperatures we had (slept without cover of the sleeping bags last night and only a most slight fire int he woodstove one room away), not least today although it put us to a true sweat although we wore light clothing for our two hikes -- one short to see where The Dad shot the buck first day, first hour of the recently past rifle season; and a second that took us to the far northern end of the hemlock ridge overlooking farmland distant from the cabin tucked away near the southern end of the ridge.

No rain. Mom's happy.

The Daughter takes off for return to grad school tomorrow: it has been a sweet three weeks.

Overpacking

Mom, Dad, and The Daugher are driving up to the cabin this overwarming winter today to spend an overnight, enjoy a walk in the perhaps muck-ity woods, a few good woodstove meals, and just Being There.

I notice when packing my stuff -- although I have advised what the gals should bring and not bring -- I keep stuffing my own rucksack with an extra this or that I imagine one or the other may leave behind, believing as they do that "warming" at that latitude means warm...instead of higher elevation, more openness to the north and other winds that blow across the perhaps (no doubt about it after the rains up there last night!) hemlock barrens and hardwoods.

Meanwhile, as we await the arrival of The Mom from a halfday at her work, I "sense" my daughter sees the plain ole "stuff" I have waiting to be packed in the pickup and is growling internally that she "...just wanted this to be simple!"

I fear "this" is as simple as it gets: three sleeping bags, food enough for dinner tonight and a good breakfast tomorrow with an evening snack tonight as we sit around the woodstove talking and reading together, and of course a libation of one's choice with cheddar (and let me not forget the carrot cake I have secreted away to surprise them after dinner tonight) ... and a cigar [for Dan, the landowner, if he shows up for a cup of coffee tonight] and me IF I happen to choose to light'er up in the night or while out for a walk tomorrow.

The Daughter is right: I have packed too much: more than she is aware of; but when the wet seeps into her pores while walking in the wind tomorrow and her light gloves prove far far too light, The Dad has a pair for her (and another for her mother) crammed away in the rucksack.

Enough said...except to add, Yes, I really should just let them yet again relearn the lessons of the out-of-doors they have learned many times before but somehow manage to forget, which always brings our Out adventures to a sooner close than any of us like for want of easily secured comfort...if they'd only remembered.

Postscript: Actually, I see this may make them seem softer about these matters than they actually are: perhaps, after all, it is The Dad who prefers so much to be warm instead of chilled through that he overdoes it in the form of Overpacking.

I think that is it.

from © Paean to the Eastern Cowboys ~ Dad

He was not much of a talker but oh how he could talk.

At the local fish and game club the men could rile themselves up pretty much over trout stocking, doe permits, changes in seasons to meet departmental targets, and so they did just that. these arguments could go on from 7:00 p.m. when the meeting started until past 11:00 p.m., two hours after it was supposed to have ended. When he was not the club President, which he was for a couple of terms...against his better judgment, Dad sat in the back of the crowd and just watched.

To put this all into perspective you need to know that at the time of his death he had been the outdoor columnist for the Whitehall Times for something like 38 years -- since he had been first married and before I, the eldest of three, came along -- so you could fairly well lay hard money that he was both familiar with what was happening, and had a point of view he had arrived at deliberately through reading and his own brand of research (he personally knew most of the state officials who might have been involved or who were being threshed but good at the front of the gathering). If he hadn't formed a point of view yet, he was listening well to find out all he could.

The curious thing for me ~ and I suppose for the other observers who knew him at all well, and almost every man in the place did or easily could have ~ no one asked him what he thought until the gnarly-jawed wrestling match that was going on had threatened the visiting warden sitting up front or was otherwise coming close to implied blows, predicated on bluster. That was when would break in, turning around to say, "Let's ask Bill what he thinks." The room would go silent, except maybe for someone genetically allergic to dad's conservationist themes.

If he didn't yet have a point a view, he'd say so ~ and maybe to go on to point out that the state guy sitting there was our guest and owed our thanks, upon which everyone in the room would mumble their begrudging or glad thanks and the President would direct the Secretary to make it official by entering it in the Minutes ~ and then would say, reaching out to tousle my already mopped hair, "Gentlemen, if you'll excuse us, it's just about time to take this youngster home so that he'll be able to get up in time for school tomorrow!" and they'd all mumble "Goodnight, Bill...and thanks."

About the time we'd be heading out the door, the President would say "Well, men, it looks like we won't be settling this or any other great world events here tonight, so I want to again say thanks to..." and about that time the door would be kicking me in the butt as I scrambled to keep up with dad.

If he did have a point of view, he'd state it...pause and then say "It's about time I took this lad home to bed for school tomorrow," and when I heard the minutes of the next meeting they would read that "Bill Williams stated that..." and note that the vote was carried accordingly. In out absence.

This was an important thing to learn -- all of it -- and I only wish more of us had enjoyed the pleasure.

2006 © Russ Williams