country life.

It has been a year and Bob still claims to be bored by country life. He was born and raised near the docks in Brooklyn so I understand his apathy. Just to remind Bob (and me) why we are here, we put him in the basket and went for a bike ride.
First stop was the estate sale in town where I found, and quickly bought up, an old work table the size of my ex-Brooklyn apartment. I talked Ed into fixing it up and delivering it to my studio for a total, including the table, of two hundred dollars. Ed in Brooklyn would have charged that much just to deliver it. The next stop in town was the potter's studio where we agreed to have a teapot workshop tomorrow morning at 11am, open invitation.
A quick ride up the hill then brought us to the new found swimming hole...holes actually. There are a series of deep spots cascading down river, mostly hidden in the trees and perfect for skinny dipping. A long follow up ride on the most perfectly cliche country road led to a mysterious sign in hebrew suggesting there was a public yurt down the drive. It was true, must be some kind of kabbalah training center. We meditated on the idea for a few moments (mats were provided) and then carried on our way. After stopping a serious rider to ask how far to hwy.6, we realized his concept of "not far" may well be vastly different from ours. Luckily, there was an organic farm stand on the way, the kind where you put money in the box and take what you need. We needed a couple of perfect red tomatoes to get us to hwy.6.
At this point it was getting close to dusk and I was unsure how far to the blacksmith. The blacksmith shop is a landmark in the area. To be honest, I didn't think it was for real until I met Jonathan a couple of weeks ago. Jonathan was at the Swenson's farm looking to fix Ralf's old hoe that had come over on the boat from Sweden at the turn of the century, "my dad had this hoe in one hand and his banjo in the other". Jonathan invited me to visit his shop that day and it seemed like a good marker for our ride. Once finally there we were playing poker with the daylight. After an extensive tour of the shop we were getting hungry and there were at least a few miles left to get home . Jonathan gave us a couple cold drinks and sent us on our way. The final detour was the Swenson farm. You can't pass the Swenson's and not stop by for fresh cut collard greens and eggs straight from the bird.
Dinner was perfect and just in time for scarlet skies. Bob didn't even have to pedal.