craigslist follies or single in the former Republic of Vermont

I have far too much unstructured time when I'm not working. So many idle minutes and hours that when its too warm outside, I skim on line dating gigs. It seems like "paid to view" or "free" to brave souls; it doesn't much matter: the odds are good, but the goods are odd. I have so many stories in this mis-adventure. When I look back, most are laughable, a few are sad, and one is scary. For anyone coupled up, it probably doesn't jive with your comprehension, on-line personals - what for? How does one discern fact from fiction? I would argue, that loosely defined, its more about truths. As the shrink says: perception is reality. One thing to always remember, "respondent BEWARE". Just google it someday and hit your state, personals and see the list of those seeking or being sought. The dialogue takes about 3 months of regular perusal reading between the lines to sift fiction from non-fiction. Real estate listings got nothing on the veiled misdirections of on line personals. But knowing this and more, I jumped in, posted on strictly platonic for moto-rides, event companions.... the friends with out benefits stuff. Dozens of responses from clueless, to lonely, to desperate, to downright mean and unkind. I sorted out the inappropriate and found two good people to ride motorcycles with. Lots of meetings for "coffee and a ride" ending in no-shows when significant others denied them of their fantasy, innocent or not. But the endless dilemma is that it is very vexing to meet like minded people in rural places when 90% of the sane population is coupled-up. You'd think folks would just like to meet new folks, new friends, new experiences....not. They want the whole ten course meal from minute one as if they were ordering a big mac and super-size that, if you don't mind. It can be entertaining to read the posts, a lens into a very broken culture: the American Way gone farcical(it'd make a great stage production). Occasionally, I make a friend for a moto-ride, but even that can be on the fringe of reasonable. Anyone who has participated in CL has a few odd stories to tell. My scary CL story goes like this...last fall, I answered a post via email for a guy nearby who wanted to take "one last ride of the season with a nice lady, no funny business." We swapped emails for a week and then set it up. He was prompt, polite, really reasonable fella. He had an amazing bike. A Valkyrie which he adored. We rode for a few hours. He took it out on I89 to impress me with its vitality. We went fast; so fast my braid came undone, so fast my sunglasses were peeled from my face. So fast when I glanced over his shoulder and saw 120mph, I asked him to slow down so we could get something to eat. He dutifully exited to a keen dinner; we ate, we talked. I discerned he was a bit eccentric, a bit uncertain having recently divorced and relocated to Stowe. We remounted his gorgeous bike and continued south eventually, returning me to my parked mini-bomb (ford windstar). I emailed him a gracious thank you and wished him a pleasant winter. Knowing I would not choose to ride with him again. He took a few too many chances with me on the back and while I like going fast, I like being able to stop also. The week meandered along and I rode with one of my regular moto-chauffeurs happy to feel the wind in my face. Sunday night came along and I happened to check out the Burlington Free Press on line. And there, in the breaking news headline, I saw it. The seemingly nice, but notably odd, fella who took me for a too-fast ride had broken into his estranged ex wife's home, murdered her bedfellow and then killed himself. He left a detailed note so he meant to do it. I was shocked, shaking, praying for all of us. There but for the grace of God, go I. It was a clarifying moment; we think we can tell when someone is ok, when we are at risk, but we see only the masks that people wear. I've met some creepy people on CL and other on-line meeting places; I've met some keen people too. There is no moral to this story, only that it is easier than one thinks to be misled. Is the glass half empty, or half full? . . . an engineer would tell you to get a smaller glass, then it is always full. . . but I think its not the water in the glass at all; its the well that one draws it from....
If you are fortunate enough to have someone to love you back; then nurture that bond, cherish that time and space and quench your thirst from that sweet and healthful spring. Love is like water, it comes in many forms and it can slip through your fingers if not preserved in a good vessel. Love good water, water good love.
peace ~ ell

April unfolding

April is odd. The ungraceful transition from winter wonders, slogging through mud-season, limping into a promised spring. There is still snow on the crown of Mt. Mansfield indicating the mountain road is still closed. The sugaring is done for this year; a short but prolific season, so they say. It has been blessed with more sunshine than rain; a precedent I hope continues through summer. We need a good hay crop this year. Last year was short and low quality driving prices up by 100%. May the trend continue for the weeks ahead; my biggest piece of hope is for a sparkling summer to ride motorcycles, drive horses, skid a little firewood(with horses)...
The highlight of April was the ascent to the top of Sterling Mountain for the sunrise Easter service. About a hundred intrepid souls made the chilling chair-ride up. While not raining, it was blustery. I gave my down parka to younger daughter as she dressed for the base lodge temperature and not the summit gale. I gave my sub-zero gloves to older daughter as she has never been to summit and was not prepared. By God's grace the service lasted only 20 minutes, a couple songs, one psalm, and a pastor with fingers too frozen to strum his guitar. As we faced easterly, singing Amazing Grace acappella ,the sun emerged from the clouds just in time to make it worth the frigid adventure. My girls were actually speechless and seemingly appreciated the sacrificial nature of the gathering; or they were too cold to complain. It was a good Easter, with good neighbors and good weather. No candy, no baskets, just luv and peace. Now my valley farm awaits and we clean up the toll of winter, coax the flowers out and count the hardiest moto-riders gliding by as they catch the earliest miles. Leaning on a rake, I smile silently: eight weeks, only 56 days until I take my Basic Riders Course...I'm primed. Meanwhile, saws, hammers and nails beckon me. Work smart, play smart...be well.
luv and peace ~ ell

wind in my face ~ winter

I'm more motivated to tell an airboarding story than I am to do my taxes; besides I can efile later tonite. Attached is a 60 second promo we did for Armed Forces Network back in February. We broke every rule the company has regarding airboarding at Smuggs. Things like following too closely - I was riding 10 feet from a very big snowmobile at 35mph. My colleague in the helmet cam was about 8 feet from me. We "poached" a closed trail just because the camera man asked us to. An hour and a half of nonstop runs was boiled into a minute blurb. That was the best promo we made this year. While it looks easy to do, and it is when the snow is good, you should know how I got the job three years ago. I was approached by my boss to see if I wanted to take a look at the program. I was a winter hiking guide in the mornings, done by 1pm, allowing time to do the airboarding in the afternoons. It was in December, the snow was frozen man-made and a "hockey puck" surface. That means it was fast, really fast not much snow to grab for stopping or turning. Airboarding is a sport made for people with mass. I have 128 lbs of mass, not much to influence the sled on a hard surface. Soooooo.... on my very first run, I managed to do all right until I got to the Hibernator dog-leg where things get steep. I dropped in, couldn't stop, barely turned, caught my downhill edge and just like skiing, rolled down-slope.....into the ski patroller and then into his snowmobile. I rang my helmeted-head, but good. I got up, continued down to the next steep section and managed to crash only 3 more times. All the while, my boss watching from the trail bottom. When I dragged my knees to a stop (ground them off would be more accurate), he asked how I liked it. My dazed reply: "it's allot of fun. . .once you know how...". His reply: "Great! the program starts on Monday..." I etched an impressive paint streak on the side of my helmet and so now I have a cover with a purple Mohawk. They call me an instructor, seems they'll hire anyone who will agree. I notice that I am the only female instructor among five men, all with mass. That was my first ride; now I am hooked. It is my favorite way to slide down the hill these days. This year, we taught daily clinics to some interesting folks. It's not a dull game to play. There was the young bride who used the SLOW sign to stop and then dropped her pants for the ski patroller so he could see the bruise on her thigh...."yep, that's a bruise. . . pack it in a bag of snow. . ." as he skwirmed out of the aide room leaving me with the blushing husband and his half clothed wife. I know the dude, he's a house painter in the summer; a doctor he is not. I learned that the men from Bermuda tend to be remedial as we screamed, bellowed for them to "ROLL OFF!!!" I think big Shawn, my fellow instructor, could be heard across all three mountains in his hopeless attempt to keep them on the trail. There were nine tree strikes in that clinic. One rider hit the trees so hard and so fast he tore his down jacket from his body. Feathers everywhere and his meek query: "can you fix my jacket?" But the most inexplicable event was the soriety girl who slid out of her snow pants trying to stop. She would just slide off the back of her sled and drag anchor to stop; this time her pants stopped and she and sled kept going. A colorful thong and no long johns. . . "ok" as I hustled to her. I blocked passers by with my sled and reminded her that Smuggs is the Number one family resort in America and she would need to put her pants back on to get down. There will be no riding pant-less. I was stunned when she said, "I can't put my pants back on; they're full of snow!" Whoa, they didn't have that scenario in the company handbook. "shake out the snow, put 'em on or I'm sure one of the Mountain Ops guys (snowmakers) will delight in bringing you down on a snowmobile. . . that would just be frosty, don't you think? She muddled her pants back on and hustled for the day lodge at the bottom. I'm here to say there is never a dull moment in Airboarding, its more fun than anyone should legally have....enjoy the clip, if you make it to VT, come ride with me sometime. . .
peace ~ ell

what horses know

A sparkling day here , warm, mudless and spring. The horses were enjoying all of it with all their exuberant vigor. I have a young gelding name of Shood Ari who has spent his winter in a safety paddock for his protection. Today he was turned out with the gang on four acres of flat, dry, former pasture (soon to be soft fruit plantation). He is only 4 years old, tall, dark and handsome. He ran, jumped, bucked, rolled, splashed in the vernal pond, instigated, aggravated, jubilated....he couldn't get a good game of horseplay going, excepting for one horse. Big Kate, a blind, older mare who is not ready to quit being a joyful horse anytime soon. She ran, tail flagging, chasing and being chased by Shoodi. It was fun to watch these two awesome brown horses loving life on a precious afternoon. Horses get it; they get what really matters - food, drink, friends, family(herd), home...A few years ago, while I was in my Masters program for horse assisted therapies, I spent some time pondering why horses were such exceptional teachers to man. I looked back at my experiences, good/bad, sweet/bitter, and made a list which I presented in my mid-term presentation. I have since included this list on our HOURSE in VT web site (under horses helping people). I'll copy and paste it here as it often serves as a "grounding" treatise for me when I am vexed by mis-guided expectations. They say a horse has a brain the size of a small apple. They can't reason. But they know how to live life grandly...when we stop to witness them, this is obvious. They amaze me always, the better piece of my heart belongs to them.
What horses have taught me...
Keep it simple
There is no need for time, only day and night
Be quietly persistent
Have fun every day
Don’t hold grudges
Trust good people
Submit if it is the only means to survive
Have an interest in living
Run as fast as you can sometimes. It’s very liberating
Be mindful of your mother
Play foalish games no matter how old you are
When an opportunity to escape presents itself, take it! You can always come home
It’s a good feeling to fall asleep in the sun sometimes
It’s even better to stomp a puddle now and then
If you fall down, get back up and shake it off
Take the time to chew your food
Share it with a friend when they are hungry too
When you learn a trick to life, teach anyone who wants to learn
When you disagree, walk away when you can
If you must fight, make it brief and powerful and get over it
When vexed, eat something; you’ll feel better
When someone you know is in need, is ill, or is dying, show concern;
tell them you love them and wish them well
Take care of each other
Find peace in letting go
Forgive a friend for dying
Forgive myself for failing
I imagine a place where people help horses and horses help people. A place where those who seek kind thoughts and good works can learn, grow, live. A place where the possibilities are endless. A place called INFINITY FARM.
come visit some time ~ bring carrots

peace ~ ell

LKS

I'm home from work for now, ignoring chores and busywork; annoyed with crisp weather and muddy trails. The warmer days, even at 40 degrees, are warm enough to aggravate my brain rot and so I dream of the moto season ahead. I got into a Basic Rider Course with a friend coming up in June. I don't imagine a bike of my own (yet) but at least I'll be a "more informed passenger" on the back seat, so my biker chauffeurs say. I think they are a bit nostalgic of last summer when cruising me around and someone to sample random diners with. They might be a tad worried that I'll go solo and leave them behind. Truth is, I doubt that. It's my favorite place to be. So after taking the free motorcycle learners permit class and getting the B-Jezzus scared out of me; I am upgrading my lid. With all the sites on line, there were hundreds to choose from. The safety instructors insisted on DOT (federal safety standard) "full face to save your face" an or a 3/4 face minimum but full-face was the best. Cost did not guarantee better safety, better comfort maybe...soooooo...I narrowed it down to two lids that I liked, allot. Pics are included here.(though I already made my purchase given the preference of my chauffeurs and all of their highly respected wisdom) My current lid is DOT approved open face/half lid. I love it; the wind is in my face and once last summer, a bug (it has no shield, just my sun glasses). So when you see the pics, let me know. The full face is very safe, stylish (a must for my turnout) and looks mature and sophisticated. The 3/4 with shield has a kewl graphic that resonates deeply within me. It is a copyrighted design with a skull, heart and saber with a banner encrypted: Love_ Kills_ Slowly. Wow. I find it more a testimonial than a grim reminder of perilous roads. If one gets too narrow in their vision, even of love, it will kill you. My love of horses has blinded me to the other potentials, sustainable potentials, of my little farm. In the name of love, it kept me rooted in a marriage that was toxic. It stifled the expansion of a vision of myself, my identity that would fostered growth. In my love of VT, I perhaps stayed too long and unwittingly sabotaged any chance to move on. My love of my kids anchored me to this single-parenting paradox leaving me little time, energy or opportunity to grow as a whole person. Don't miss understand, I love VT, I love my farm. I love my kids. But I sometimes wonder what would have been for my dreams, interests and possibilities if I had not held on with such a very tight grip to my love of these passions. Have I learned how to ease off the throttle, let out a little line, pause and see the biggest view? A great horse trainer has said: "when you have a horse on the end of an 8' rope - he's got you on the other end...a good trainer knows when to let go" The power is in the process; learning when to hold on-when to let go...it can mean the difference between the pain of losing something or the relief of letting it go. I'll spend the rest of my life learning how to tell the difference. It is a compelling graphic: "Love_Kills_Slowly.".....ahhh, but what a fabulous way to go.

Which lid did I buy? The survival stats were more compelling, I bought the sexy red, full face; my chauffeurs approve with a wink of their eye. "Let's ride"
peace ~ ell

winter wonders

Winter in the Lamoille Valley has finally loosened its grip. Looking up at Mt. Mansfield from the horse barn (it has the best view from my place); I take inventory of the bounty of winter wonders. I'm a winter hiking guide at Smugg's Resort, logging 328 miles over the mountainous trails on mornings M-F, December thru March. In the afternoons, I get to rip down the mountain on an airboard; peaking speeds of 42 mph when we clocked it on the GPS. It is pure fun; my favorite way to slip, slide and carve on snow. We filmed 4 different clips for various promotional companies to promote this growing game on snow. My favorite was the piece we did for Armed Services Network. Hopefully, they will send me the finished clip and I'll post it here to share (just in case any of you want to come up and give it a twirl). We broke every rule of Airboarding at Smuggs to make a good demo for the military folks posted abroad. In airboarding, no skill is required; that's why I love it. We are riding belly down, face first, in an agile bench press, on an inflatable wedge shaped sled. Nimbly shifting our body, weight and legs, we can turn it, roll it, stop it...riding only 6 inches off of the snow, there's no where to fall; we're already on the ground - "just roll off", if you can't do the swift stop. The only laws that truly matter? The laws of physics prevail and teach us all about snow rash, that which is in motion...mass, acceleration, inertia...gravity....I should have paid closer attention in school. ha ha The safety clinic for all newbies: "don't use a tree to stop, don't use the trail sign to stop, don't use bamboo to stop, don't use the skiers or snowboarders to stop, don't use the lift house to stop, and don't use your instructor to stop....ROLL OFF! It's comical watching people try to master the mountain. The stories about the people who come to play... the kids, the couples (almost always ends in a bitter row), the foreign guests who don't know enough English to understand the "don't list"...the folks who just plain disregard the "don't list"...
I'll save these for a future post, one at a time with some clips of this fun little rig.For now, I'm immersed in the work of repairing and recovering the horse barn from a winter's worth of neglect, finalizing the business plan for the soft fruit orchard and getting the Learned Horse Project ready for spring and summer programs. And, as promised to myself and my moto buddies, the anxious anticipation of the Motorcycle Endorsement Basic Rider Course in June. I'll get my endorsement (if my brain rot will allow), become a more informed passenger and someday ride my own bike. I am psyched, feeling primed for summer and praying for more rain-less days than not. It's going to be an interesting summer. More stories to tell....
be well to all ~ peace ~ ell