[continued from previous entry]
The following day, two Thursdays ago, brought the arrival of I. from Montreal, the representative of the opposite gender I've been getting to know in recent weeks (see entry of August 24).
Shortly after 4 p.m. on a stupendously beautiful afternoon, we met up on the State House lawn in Montpelier (the State House looking as cute as ever, like a capitol building from a big state that someone left in the dryer too long -- white and glistening, gold dome towering over everything else in the town, which makes it look almost grand; almost -- it's a low-skyline town, so low-skyline that it would be nearly impossible for the town to develop delusions of grandeur without serious long-term ego-inflation via compressed air and massive drug-consumption), picked up a bunch of provisions to ensure excellent eating, and made the drive out to my hilltop fiefdom. Via back roads, I. wondering what kind of Deliverance scenario she'd gotten herself into as the roads got narrower, more remote, until the narrowest, most remote finally gave out onto the gravel road that stretches over the top of the hill, providing sudden expansive vistas of the valley to the north, my humble dive perched on the verge of the hill, exceedingly fine views all around.
It qualified as a major step, this visit. Previously, I'd spent two or three days in that lovely city to the north, spending days and evenings with Herself, us returning to our respective hideouts for a nighttime breather -- her to flat with daughter, me to B&B. A lot of time together for two individuals who'd only recently had an email connection before attempting the 3-D thing. Her foray to my rural corner of the world meant intensive time spent together of a whole other magnitude, four days worth.
In other words, we were in for adventure. Which turned out to be fun, tender, interesting, sweet, occasionally hilarious. With occasional ups and downs as we waded through the process of getting to know each other, bumping up against differences in personality, perspective, all that.
Adventure: it's good.
Sidenote: I hadn't heard a peep out of the household ghost in many months -- since sometime last year. During the few days before I.'s arrival, I began hearing it again. Always quiet and subtle, nothing hair-raising, unless the sound of someone else moving around the house when you know no one else should be around is a cause for nerves. The morning after I.'s first night over, she mentioned that she'd heard the creaking of floorboards, as in someone walking down the hallway, added that she felt someone standing over her at one point, thought it was me. Must not have felt threatening -- she turned over, went back to sleep. And that was that.
What does it all mean? No idea. Interesting, though.
She's an adorable soul, I., and there were moments during the weekend when she really seemed to be enjoying herself, times when I watched, smiling, feeling so pleased. Sitting in the Rainbow Sweets Café eating a pretty good pizza (w/ everything) while the owner blabbed his way through his ever-evolving comedy monologue. Standing on the overlook at Nichol's Ledge, northern Vermont countryside spread out below in panoramic fashion (not much autumn color in evidence, but still beautiful beyond words). Spending an afternoon in adirondack chairs out on the hillside here, soaking up sunlight and the view of the valley. Sitting out on the back stoop in chilly night air, listening to the quiet.
Lots of moments in that vein.
Four days of company, then back to a quiet house, my thoughts turning more and more to the coming return to Madrid.
[this entry in progress]
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This evening, southern Quebec:
España, te echo de menos.
rws 1:23 PM [+]
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