I’ve been away from the works of some of my favorite authors for a couple of days, so I couldn’t wait to get back to some serious reading. This morning I got up and started reading some new and interesting works of literature:
-There was a fine Hank Aaron reminiscence that also taught me a new word — tetracontapentagon — and its definition.
-There was a riveting story about a hike in the woods in the aftermath of a BLIZZARD. As if a blizzard wasn’t scary enough, the author came across a Garceau that seemed to be splattered with blood and images of two of the Three Amigos along with cryptic messages about pools being closed.
-There was another piece that had a cover photo of a bunch of African animals riding bicycles on a beach. I was almost too freaked out to read that one, but I’m glad I did.
-There was a more calming story about going out into the Kentucky woods with an old friend for a photography shoot. I thought it was funny that the author bundled up in her warmest clothing and the friend showed up in shorts.
-There was a tale of a grumbly-faced dude from California who climbed something called Chalk Hill on his bike and rode amongst a plethora of wineries. I read that one for the second time because the dude actually met Bernie Sanders while on his bike ride. (Haha. I just wrote the word “plethora.” Here is a scene from The Three Amigos that my son and I can quote verbatim.
-Finally, there was a story about a guy who headed out for a bicycle ride before a snowstorm and cold weather moved into his part of Vermont. It was his picture of an ice-fishing settlement that inspired me to head out on my bike to check out the ice-fishing scene on MY Town’s two lakes.
I must admit, it wasn’t exactly a HIKE — it was more of a slog over about 50-yards of snow. But I like the picture. I also like the next picture of the guy pulling his sled (and his dog) while they walked across the ice after a morning of ice fishing. I asked, “did you catch anything?” He replied, “absolutely nothing. Not even a bite, but it is what it is.”
That kind of patience and acceptance of zero success is why I could never be a fisherman.
There are no more pictures from my bike ride, but while I was typing this I saw something out my window that I couldn’t believe. Never before have I seen such a thing in January. I ran outside to take a picture of the yard across the street.