Recreation

The village of Ashley Falls sits in the middle of old agricultural land in the broad and fertile floodplain of the Housatonic River, a few miles from Massachusetts’ southern border with Connecticut. On the west edge of town, jutting up from the floodplain and forcing the river to make a long, looping bend around them, stand a pair of rocky knolls whose jumble of calcareous marble and acidic quartzite forms a haven for a wide diversity of plants and animals. This is the Bartholomew’s Cobble nature preserve.

It’s the last week of January. It’s dark and cold, and my separation agreement still isn’t signed. I am usually a pretty optimistic person, but when I got back from the city last week and discovered my car had been towed (it wouldn’t start because of the sub-zero freeze), I started to feel a bit picked on. Wasn’t it enough that I had stopped drinking? And then, with little or no warning, I was overwhelmed by an even worse feeling: my jeans were tight. Clearly the holidays had been too much fun. 

The turkey is brined (or not — depending on whether you are a believer), the teenagers’ vegan casserole has been concocted, and you’ve got young, old and every age in between converging on your house in a few hours. What is one to do to keep these people happy and away from the booze until dinner starts? Or to calm your own nerves before the onslaught? Or perhaps you are on your own this Thanksgiving and would like to do something special?

There is a difference between being alone and being lonely. This is what I was thinking as I finished my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, took one more look at the amazing view, and started down from the summit of Bear Mountain toward Paradise Lane Trail to complete the Undermountain Trail loop in Salisbury.