After a good rest up, and general regaining of vitality, I decided to take a nap today, which lasted until mid afternoon and only stopped because the temperature in the ma'am cave had risen to close to 90. Sluggishly I crawled to the car where my bike was waiting and drove to my favorite local path to get at least some blood moving and I found that moving blood is just what horseflies like best.
I have said at other times that one cannot outrun a chicken, and on a bike, at least the pace I go at, a horsefly does a good job at keeping up. All the same, I was treated to the sight of a snapping turtle [who I'm pretty sure is older than I am] dozing in the sun on a big rock in the middle of the river. It was worth stopping and imagining what it might be like to be a turtle who has seen that river go from pretty clean to flammable, colorful and nearly dead to swimmable, and possibly, drinkable in a pinch. Shortly after that a young beaver went by a few feet away, conscientiousness etched on his features. He had the focus of many cyclists who pass me dressed in lycra, unsmiling, intent.
It wasn't a long ride, only an hour, but virtue, even in small doses is of value.
I came home to helicopters, guys in helmets on ATV's riding up and down the road, fire & rescue trucks, Fish & Game and a few police cruisers. Eventually, they stopped at my house and it seems that one of my neighbors had wandered off.
In the 1700's King George III gave a big chunk of rocky, non-arable useless swamp land with a small mountain and a couple of hills surrounding a nice lake to the Weston family. I could probably go and look up in Hancock History who the first Weston was to come here and try to make a life out of this difficult patch of NH, but that will have to wait for another time. The Weston we know of was Ephraim, and there are numerous local stories about him, he was a hard working sheep farmer and a character. His descendants still have sheep, still have land, though quite a lot less of it, and you can spot them in a crowd. I went to school with and grew up with some and they are distinctive. Some of the women beauties, the men all interesting. Bill Weston, the remaining patriarch has dementia, but lives at home and wandered off today. Told his daughter he was going for a walk. He was seen by a member of my household around 11 AM and now there is a task force out hunting for him.
I hope he is found in good condition, I hope he is still able to live as he has lived, this is a selfish hope, I know, because I put myself in his place and imagine an old man, wandering out into woods he knows as well as his own home, I hope he finds his way to a place that is safe and that the guardians of this place are with him, and the horse flies are not.
I have said at other times that one cannot outrun a chicken, and on a bike, at least the pace I go at, a horsefly does a good job at keeping up. All the same, I was treated to the sight of a snapping turtle [who I'm pretty sure is older than I am] dozing in the sun on a big rock in the middle of the river. It was worth stopping and imagining what it might be like to be a turtle who has seen that river go from pretty clean to flammable, colorful and nearly dead to swimmable, and possibly, drinkable in a pinch. Shortly after that a young beaver went by a few feet away, conscientiousness etched on his features. He had the focus of many cyclists who pass me dressed in lycra, unsmiling, intent.
It wasn't a long ride, only an hour, but virtue, even in small doses is of value.
I came home to helicopters, guys in helmets on ATV's riding up and down the road, fire & rescue trucks, Fish & Game and a few police cruisers. Eventually, they stopped at my house and it seems that one of my neighbors had wandered off.
In the 1700's King George III gave a big chunk of rocky, non-arable useless swamp land with a small mountain and a couple of hills surrounding a nice lake to the Weston family. I could probably go and look up in Hancock History who the first Weston was to come here and try to make a life out of this difficult patch of NH, but that will have to wait for another time. The Weston we know of was Ephraim, and there are numerous local stories about him, he was a hard working sheep farmer and a character. His descendants still have sheep, still have land, though quite a lot less of it, and you can spot them in a crowd. I went to school with and grew up with some and they are distinctive. Some of the women beauties, the men all interesting. Bill Weston, the remaining patriarch has dementia, but lives at home and wandered off today. Told his daughter he was going for a walk. He was seen by a member of my household around 11 AM and now there is a task force out hunting for him.
I hope he is found in good condition, I hope he is still able to live as he has lived, this is a selfish hope, I know, because I put myself in his place and imagine an old man, wandering out into woods he knows as well as his own home, I hope he finds his way to a place that is safe and that the guardians of this place are with him, and the horse flies are not.
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