And so, the spring travel season draws to a close. Over 8 weeks, Charleston, some swamp near Columbia, Seattle, Greenville, Asheville, New York, New Haven.
This week's was a particularly long trip, four long days, three nights, a little too late in the season from a weather perspective, though somehow I didn't wilt in Manhattan in black jeans when it was maybe 90 out. Perhaps it is a sign of aging, my mother's mild cold-naturedness setting in. How many people did I talk to, 35, 40? It's a total blur, as reunions often are.
Late Saturday at LaGuardia it was practically desolate. I suppose everyone had already hied off to wherever they were going.
Pressing forward with Wallace Stegner's Crossing to Safety, per Emily's suggestion. When I started it, I first thought "ugh, On Golden Pond with higher sheen," but there is something about it that is worthwhile, earnest. Fact is, I actually liked On Golden Pond, though I imagine it would be feel like a period piece of its own by now.
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