Lovermont

Plainfield, Sunday, Karl and Mary's place, "Occasional Concerts." White Mountains. Route 2. Ski country. Well... New England ski country.

Google maps said it would take me 4 hours and 35 minutes to get to Plainfield via Route 295, 95, 101, 93, 89 and into Vermont. It was 260-some odd miles. Odd's not the best word for it, off course. These are very plain miles. They said it would take 4 hours and 28 minutes to get there via Quaker Meeting-house road to 136 and 11 and 121 and 26 and then Route 2, through Bethel and Gorham, skirting Mt. Washington and sliding into Vermont way up north. 170-ish miles.

I never get this chance -- to drive to the end of the little half-mile dirt road I live on and turn right. Drive up through Auburn. Playing peek-a-boo with the Androscoggin river all the way up to NH. I'm always stuck on the Interstate, it seems. Always looking for the quickest way to and from somewhere, so I can be home with my family as much as possible. So what a treat to have a real excuse for getting off that tired old path. Getting away from the 74-mph rush. Saving some gas and driving up through Maine mineral country. Marsey loves rocks: gems, all kinds. Maine Tourmaline, especially. This is the tourmaline capital of Maine up here.

And driving into the yard at Karl and Mary's? I could've sat in their dooryard for hours, I think. That old-fashioned rose bush that reminded me of my great-aunt's house, for some reason (and yes, that's "Aunt" not "Ant"). Tall and wiry and proper, somehow. Understated. Then sitting out on the porch and talking to neighbors as they strolled by. Petting the dog. I almost didn't want to play the show. Just wanted to sit and visit, maybe go off and write.