Yesterday, I had this feeling like a log jam had broken. The metaphors is cheap and easy because I had overcome some obstacles about some work that was due over on a little town near the Connecticut River. Frankly, having this thing out there for a while, had been gnawing at my mojo.
I don’t think I need to go to deeply into the concept of mojo or why, but let’s review the scene.
I was in Springfield, Vermont. It was 10 below zero. The sun was brilliant. There was an impending snowstorm. The atmospheric pressure was high. This always has an effect on my state of mind.
Springfield is this mid-sized Vermont town that has the usual brick factories, and churches with white steeples hugging a river. You can only see the river when you are on a bridge looking off of it and a few peek-a-boos between buildings. The old industrial geniuses knew how to block the decent views so they could capture all the power the river could muster.
I did find a tiny view. At ten below the river had stopped in its tracks. Columns and curtains of ice had locked the river down at the falls.
And the town, on its banks, breathed and steamed its way through the bitter cold alongside it. Most villagers probably never notice what that river is doing.
And like that, after this quick and judgmental observation, I was done with Vermont.
It was time to head to the goat farm where an other project was steaming along (or getting chewed up.)
Between Springfield and Marlborough, NH there are so many tempting places to stop for lunch. There is Burdicks in Walpole. Someday, I will have to write about the best spinach and cheese croissants you can buy. There is Allen brothers at exit 5 on 91. It is always a stop on the way to and from skiing adventures above the Walpole parallel.
Each place I passed registered blips like a Geiger Counter. First, faint, then insistent and then faint again.
By the time I rounded the horn at Brattleboro heading for Keene, I was pretty proud that I had missed all of these wonderful stops and had the will power to press on.
Then the blips started again. There was 5 Guys, Wendy’s, numerous awesome coffee shops in Keene. I knew I needed a short stop at Staples. The Geiger counter would be deafening.
Sure enough, when I came out KFC and Taco Bell were right across the street. Sorry, no review of a taco is needed.
But a taco is what I got. When I arrived at the Gap Mountain Goat Farm, I swept off of my pants. There was lettuce, tomato, cheese and beef which would be hoovered up by curious, always hungry goats. The beasts might even have a tiny connection with the journey I was on. Maybe, they will even sense the relief of a broken log jam.