Color and Shading: Summer to Autumn
Autumn veranda view of Big Hosmer.
Open waterfront.
Our new seating set up in the dining hall.
Returning from a day of hiking in NH’s White Mountains, I returned to the Center and was stunned to see not a single car. Sure, the Sprinter van and the old reliable gray and blue vans were parked north of Cedar Lodge. Other than that? Not a car to be seen. Compare this to the summer: Tamarack’s dirt circle is stuffed with cars, there’s never a spot to be had in front of Cedar along Lost Nation Road and the lot north of Cedar is a hodgepodge of Center vehicles, trucks, heavy equipment and guest cars. The myriad license plates are a testimony to the happy busy-ness of the place. Now I looked around half-expecting to see a tumbleweed rolling through.
It’s October. All sorts of changes have occurred. Some occurred so subtly that I feel a bit behind the score just noticing them now. Others were abrupt and severe. Like the cessation of breakfast and dinner. Really? No more bounteous and incredible repasts served up, just like that? Luckily lunch is still served every weekday and we have a new and improved seating arrangement designed (by energy cookie maven Matt Renaud) to foster camaraderie and conversation. My first reaction: it looked like a therapy circle. I feared that instead of eating lunch I would be expected to share my feelings. Luckily, it hasn't come to that yet.
These days I go in and out of Cedar Lodge lounge and there’s no screen door slapping behind me as I slip inside. A firm believer in the quality of silence, I nevertheless like nothing better all summer long than letting that door slam shut behind me with a firm and satisfying clatter. The lounge fairly echoes with the spirit of the runners who use the place as a daily starting point. I don’t linger now. Pausing makes me miss the energy of so many great friends. The docks (save one) have been pulled and the launches are soon to follow. Those of us remaining here to train for the Head of the Charles have one dock left but soon that will be pulled as well.
There’s a rhythm to the days. The small cadre of remaining athletes (GRP skiers, Head of the Charles racers) and staff bump into each other in the fitness room, on the trails and on the water. Large infrastructure projects are fast underway to completion before the snow flies. The office hours are now only 9 - 5. Alas, there are no more chocolate chip cookies gracing the office on Sundays when new running and sculling camps commence. Still, I can count on seeing Chas, Jen, Tracy and Judy in the office, Pepa shepherding her GRP athletes,Troy buttoning up the boathouse, Davis changing the Touring Center over from bikes to skis...winter is coming and all the Center is preparing mightily for it.
I’ll be gone long before the snow flies, flitting west to Portland. I’ll miss my evening strolls along Big Hosmer hoping to see and hear the resident loons. Instead I’ll be in northwest Portland wondering if the adolescent loon I watched grow from chick-hood made it off the lake before the ice formed. I’ll wonder if my summer home, the Duck Blind, is closed up tight against snow flurries. Most of all, I’ll be waiting to return to the people at the place that makes me happy: the Craftsbury Outdoor Center.