If a given combination of trees, mountains, water, and houses, say a landscape, is beautiful, it is not so by itself, but because of me, of my favor, of the idea or feeling I attach to it. -Baudelaire
I don’t know what it is about this fall, but it just keeps going. We should be suffering through wind, rain, and near freezing temperatures, waiting for the god damned snow to come, with not much better to do after the sun goes down at 4:30 than drink and play board games. Instead we get spring, again. What to do with the gorgeous weather?
Right, go where there’s wind, near freezing temperatures, and snow.
On Saturday morning Laura dragged me out of the house around the time I’m used to going to sleep on Saturday morning, to hike a couple of the Adirondack High Peaks. We hit Cascade and Porter; while in Albany it was pushing 60 degrees, there we had a solid layer of snow on the ground and hazy, overcast skies. The clouds blew off as we got to the blistering, forsaken peak of Cascade, so I got to enjoy the view for the three seconds at a time I could keep my eyes open.
We had a picnic, on a tree stump by a river as the sun went down, which was so gorgeously cliché that I vomited through my nose. A good day, overall.
On Sunday we grabbed Kim and Sebastien and headed down to Storm King Art Center, which is a grassy, hilly field where expensive cameras gather, attached to people who aren’t looking where they’re walking. There’ll be an entry on that later.
Check out laurakeet!‘s take too.