> jumping into life.

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On the way to Camel's Hump, the Winooski River runs strong and fast. This is a season of water, this time between the dropping of leaves and the full turn to snow. When rain comes the roots are inert as stone, with no chlorophyll bring sugars into the sap, no tiny stomata pores to exhale oxygen and water both and work the xylem vacuum. The rain flows through and over the half-frozen ground, pours itself into rivulets and streams, down waterfalls that turn to sheets of ice at night, pours down the muddy and treacherous trails, down the tire-tracks in the dirt road, pours right through each crevice in the mountain itself and into the river and into the lake.

Rain is rain; mountain is mountain; rock is rock; river is river. Right?

The river runs silver and black. The sunlight speaks winter; the rushes and reeds are grey and tawn. This feels like winter to me. Only the larches show color now, their yellow needles spraying with every wind. Tiny ridges of snow line the bare branches of birches, maples, willows, oaks. I cannot tell them apart. The sunlight has melted the edges of the snow and lights each liquid curve until the trail is a blaze of jewels. We stop and breathe and breathe until the cold seeps in.

Beautiful post.

Thanks, Dave. It was a lovely afternoon. ;)

Barbuque sauce on the wheel wells. Oh, the forensics these days!

I still read your blog from time to time, Kat, even though I'm really just a lost friend from a past life. Frankly, I miss talking to you, but it's at the point where I hardly know what to say.

Having read the last few posts today, however, I wanted to congratulate you on the engagement and tell you how glad I am that you've finally found a lot of what you were anguishing for here at Drexel.

Take care,

hey, Geoff, good to hear from you. it's strange to be so glad that i left somewhere but still miss the people who were left behind. did you ever make it back to hungary?

I made it back in '05 for the 20th anniversary of the program and intend to go to the 25th anniversary in '10. It's the only city, the only place, that I can say I truly love. Maybe one day I'll expatriate.


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