Years ago, when I was living in Jackson Hole, my friend Michele, a former river guide, took me out on the Snake in her inflatable boat. Now, prior experiences in whitewater have inclined me to stick to my default setting of worshipping big rocks.
To wit: one time in ‘96, during a tubing party on the Farmington River in Connecticut, I was dumped out of my tube in a churning hole of froth, and barely managed to get back in. A year or two later (coincidentally, on a visit to Jackson Hole), I went into hypothermic shock and had to be dumped out on the banks.
Let’s just say, I was a little apprehensive about going out with Michele.
So we’re drifting along. It’s an utterly flat section of water, no drama whatsoever. Ahead in the distance, I see the faintest suggestion of ripples in the water. ‘OH NO!’, says I to Michele. ‘INCIPIENT RAPIDS!’
Unfazed, Michele steered us directly toward them.
“NO! YOU’RE MISSING ALL THE FUN! THE FLAT WATER!”, says I to Michele.
“Silly wabbit”, she says to me…”this IS the fun part.”
I was reminded of this on Thursday when Kristin, an old friend, came to visit, accompanied by her seven year old daughter Lily. We had lunch, I showed them the house (which they hadn’t seen since we put the addition on), and we got all caught up. And then we set off an adventure to visit Olallie Daylily Gardens in South Newfane.
Figuring at least part of our journey would be on dirt roads, I volunteered the use of Kevin’s 4WD and we carpooled. Now, y’all know that I pretty much lead the life of a hermit, right? I’m not used to “people”. Let alone, “people in the car with me”. So I immediately went into brain-lock autopilot and accidentally got on the highway, which plays no role in how you get from our house, to South Newfane.
The ensuing improv added 14 miles to our trip, but – ever resourceful – we labeled it “fun country drive” and I got to learn about how various roads in Dummerston are connected to one another.
Eventually, we got within striking distance of our destination, only to find…cue the forbidding music…the Williamsville covered bridge was out.
We would have to follow the detour signs.
What follows is a journey not just to the promised land of fields of lilies, but through the forbidding terrain of My Psyche. Buckle up.
Part One: Hooray! An Adventure!
The beginning’s always fun, isn’t it? There is so much to be discovered! This will be great! Wheeeee!
Part Two: Apprehension
Baker Brook Road, our detour route, started ascending pretty quickly, and pretty quickly, I remembered the Vermont Gazetteer, tossed in the back seat of my car. The car at home.
You know, there’s a reason I don’t know my way around Windham County back roads. Have you seen a Vermont dirt road in mud season? or in the middle of winter? Have you seen my Honda? It has the clearance and horsepower of your average turtle.
Right around now is when I started hoping that the road crews had been thorough in their placement of detour signs.
Part 3: From Flow, to Uh Oh
So we’re bombing along on our adventure, balanced on the razor’s edge of what psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi coins “flow” – that sweet zone where you’re feeling fully immersed and focused. If it were any easier, you’d be bored. If it were any harder, you’d be frustrated.
And that was when Kristin noticed a tiny, hand-painted sign saying “lillies” telling us to take a left, while up ahead, an orange “detour” sign beckoned.
We took the left! We’re breaking the rules! We’re off the map, and we don’t even have a map! Waaagghhhh! Plus, you see all these contour lines we’re crossing? We’re going up a super-steep hill! with no shoulders! Thank heavens we’ve commandeered Kevin’s truck. Note to self: my next car will be manual transmission all-wheel drive.
Here is where I noticed that my capacity to embrace the unknown is right up against my tendency to throw up my hands in panic. Good to know. Let’s get a crowbar in there and create some room to maneuver.
In the meantime, our road T-dead-ended into a new road, and somehow (I forget how – it was probably Kristin’s doing) we knew to turn left.
Part Four: Monkey Mind
By now we knew we were on the original detour route. This entailed a long descent through the woods – huge maples shading us, farmhouses and fields tucked away here and there. Gosh, was it beautiful. You’d think I’d be able to enjoy the journey at this point, right? You’d be wrong.
My monkey mind was chattering away about what a pathetic loser I am. How come I panic at the least sign of trouble? How come I don’t know my way around my own neighborhood? How come I never go exploring? How will I ever learn new stuff, if I’m not willing to get lost? BLAH blah BLAH blah BLAH blah BLAH.
I vocalized this for Kristin’s entertainment. Well, let’s hope she was entertained. If I can’t make a funny story out of this, WHAT’S THE POINT?
Part Five: VICTORY!
Suddenly, I saw a steel-deck bridge up ahead. I immediately recognized it, as I’d seen this bridge plenty of times from the other side. I actually know where I am! Hooray!
From here, we were back on the normal route, and we made our way to Olallie with no further Drama. And thus concludes the tour though my psyche.
As your reward, I will now show you the pictures Kristin took with her amazing not-one-but-two cameras.
Me and Miss Lily.
Please note the name of this hybrid, ahem.
Lily got into some milkweed pods and I dissected one to see how it’s coming along. Later in the summer, the outer husks will open up and the wind will carry all these seeds away on silky puffs, which you see here. They’re still kinda sticky.
Gasp.
See the bee?
Lily and her mom.
Is this heaven, or what?
And then we picked blueberries – just a few, as this place charges an arm and leg for their blueberries, no offense – and I ate a whole entire pint on the way home. Yum.
Thanks for visiting, Kristin and Lily! I had fun! Let’s get lost again sometime!
Happy trails, everyone…
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