He floats through the air…

This weekend is the annual Harris Hill Ski Jump competition. I accidentally found the ramp a few months ago on a run, but today we got to see it in use… probably the only time all year it gets any use at all.

And it seemed implausible that they would go at all, given that it was damn near 50 degrees out yesterday and today. All that snow is man-made, 100%, and they had to cancel the practice jumps to save what little snow there was. Still, the show must go on, and it did.

We walked over after lunch and caught the final round of jumps, picking up a discounted ticket of uncertain provenance from a couple of kids on the way in.

The jumpers are amazing… they fly anywhere from about 60 meters to almost 100 meters, and then they land softly. The landing area is way crazy steep, which I guess it has to be to absorb all that energy. The skis are ginormous, but I learned that FIS rules limit their length to 146% of body height. For me that would be about 265 cm… slightly longer than the 203s that were popular back in the day.

Great beer from McNeill’s, and a nice crowd of people… just another ridiculously interesting event, right in our own neighborhood.

The Bench of Forgotten Items

Of course you remember the skates and the gloves. Last night, we found a more serious-minded treasure… looks like it might be a pretty good read.

My breakfast with Archer

A couple of months ago, I won the chance to have breakfast with author Archer Mayor. Today, I got to collect my prize.

Lee and I joined archer at the Chelsea Royal diner in West Brattleboro, where we had never been and he knew more or less everybody. It was a fantastic conversation… we talked about our nomadic upbringings, why Vermont is the best place ever, rowing, his writing process, being a cop, molding your own personal and professional place in the world, and a hundred other things.

I presented him with a not-too-dog-eared copy of John Carter of Mars, which wasn’t exactly the kind of signed first edition I won from the auction but which I think he still appreciated. Who knows?? maybe we’ll even see ourselves in one of his future books somehow. Detective Joe Gunther has traveled to some pretty exotic places, like Chicago, IL, and St. Johnsbury, VT… could Mars really be all that far away??

Moonrise over Wantastiquet

A beautiful clear day. The pic doesn’t quite get the golden sunlight on the mountainside or how big the moon looks.

Colonial Motel Pool

Here’s a shot of the pool building this morning. It’s really just an oversized greenhouse, but it stays toasty warm inside. I had a nice swim this morning, doing a set of hard intervals.

I loved my Total Immersion training a couple summers ago, but I still have a lot to learn. When I’m working really hard, I’m almost as fast as the good swimmers at their “I could do this all day” pace. Still, at least now I have a pace like that, just slower.

And so it begins

In Connecticut, where we lived out in the woods, we fought an ongoing battle to try and keep squirrels out of the bird feeder. Until today, the reticent and affable Vermont squirrels had ignored the feeder. We had misguided hopes that the feeder’s exposed placement on the deck would deter them.

The entente cordiale has been shattered and it’s ‘Game On.’

Ka-or, Jasoomians! The imminent release of the John Carter movie, combined with the witness protection-level sense of newness that has come along with our move to Vermont, gave us internal permission to get the coolest license plate in the solar system.

The Garment Bench

Remember the ice skates? Last night on the way home from a dog and a pint at Flat Street Pub (which was full at 6PM, by the way) we saw these gloves on the same bench. One is marked ‘Kevin.’ His mom is not gonna be happy.

Birthdays sock!

L and her magical mystery motorcycle socks.

Thanks Frank!!!!!

Soirée Musicale

It’s beyond my skill level to fully describe the serendipitous chain of connections and people that led us to Guilford tonight. Wonderful and unexpected and yet not… It’s Brattleboro after all. So, here we are at Wendy’s house concert, hearing Stephen Katz and and John Hughes on cello and kora. Amazing, hypnotic, improvisational jazz. The house itself was also just what it should be… Up a hill off a dirt road. Low ceilings, massive old beams. Filled with a haphazard collection of treasures and antiques. Just another day in paradise.

Cosette and the Night Visitors

Cosette has always hated other cats. Now that we have lots of windows that go right to the floor, she can patrol and see and hear every feline explorer who comes to check the place out.

When she confronts another cat through the glass, Cosette screams bloody murder and howls and hisses and puffs up like a Halloween decoration.

These footprints in the snow give proof that she’s not just making it all up to get attention.