Stopping by Snowy Woods

An afternoon and evening in San Francisco with Kominski included Green Apple Books and City Lights Books, and I came away with books of poems by Lyn Lifshin (Before It's Light) and Stephen Dunn (New And Selected Poems 1974-1994 and What Goes On, Selected and New Poems 1995-2009), a pint of beer at Vesuvio, dinner at Cafe Coppola (a glass of good Pinot Noir with Spaghetti alla Puttanesca), and a house special at Tosca. The day involved a good amount of walking, which was fine because the San Francisco weather was pretty much ideal. The streets themselves seemed rather quiet, reminding me of a similar trip shortly after 9/11 when a bar waitress told us that tourists were not touring. That same bar was quite active this night, however, and that was good. Years ago we would make these trips and drink more beer and more coffee, and we would stay until close to midnight when most places shut down. Just as I drink less of both beverages these days, I also buy fewer books seeing that my shelves are full and I've no more room in the house for additional shelves. Kominski has been through a lot of changes the last year or so, but he seems no worse for wear and appears to be as sane as he has ever been.

"What are you writing?" he asked.
"Nothing," I said.

We both figured we should leave things at that--how much shame can a man take, after all?

* * *

Early the next morning I was on the road again, this time with two companions who joined me for another day of backcountry skiing. Good company overcame poor snow and the excursion into the Sierra semi-high country turned out to be quite enjoyable, if also quite exhausting. A week earlier the snow was a powdery welcome mat, but in 8 days' time it had transformed into a crusty, unforgiving floor that seemed part linoleum, part glass. Still, we managed to work our way uphill to find how little snow there is--lots of rocks. One highlight was our discovery of mountain lion tracks in the snow. I have not seen such things before, so it was exciting for me. As I thought about things later, though, I pondered how often I have traveled through the area on either foot or skis with that kitty cat watching me. I have resolved to leave my supply of catnip at home from now on.

The journey down the hills and through the trees was a challenge given that I am not either skilled or coordinated when I put my skis on; I fell twice when I was simply standing and admiring the scenery. The only bad part was when, about 200 yards from the parking lot and car, just as I was about to speed down a sort of bunny hill, I noticed that one of my bindings had detached nearly completely from my left ski. Not a good thing, but I was glad that it had not happened a couple hours earlier, or when I was traversing a slope. If it had, I would still be walking.

Together, the 2 days paired nicely, and both served to erase some of the general malaise and cynicism I'd let built up and then written about in a couple posts. Here's one of my companions as we ate lunch:




And here's me--photographed by a brand-new iPhone.