They drive the company car on back roads through small towns and established pastures and baron’s estate turned boarding school and old colonials with carriage houses while barns line curving country roads or represent upon the hummock. Cellphone’s company courtesy, with career intact recreation weekends. Not like when you were younger. She drives because he’s not on the insurance. Recently rained roads wet here dry in spots, steaming. Trees their first green. Woman gets five days paid vacation. His car dead for months. Good thing she got the job. Across the Connecticut River stretching farther west. They travel to the highest and most beautiful waterfall in the state, in all the guidebooks, every resident homage. Week before Memorial Day villages fly flags on approaching and departing telephone poles, civic buildings, banks, bar flies. “Man, this is going to be a great weekend.” Gear in back, free-standing tent stove candles tarp been-a-wet spring and a book of short stories. Food packed right, water bottles hiking boots. They’re going to the grandest waterfall in the state, then climb the highest mountain, tucked into the corner of Massachusetts, Connecticut and New York. Cruise past homes that demand desire. Dream share aloud her dreams and he couldn’t agree more. “Look at that one,” they stream past hilltop mansion with boulder meadow views. “That’s where I want to live,” and they kiss. You reach the tri-corner region and climb to Mt. Washington township, into the state forest, through wide valley mist, sign looms out of nowhere the height of land Bash Bish Falls. Fast alertness fog stirs, now allowing the ridge, now-enshrouds, thin veil moisture turmoil. But you peer into hatcheted hills, hear the roar, and find the stream. Soon wet granite and fantasize about diving into that clear, inviting, cold, liquid. Spray powered by falling water; rumble surrounds tossing white. Removes glasses; places in his pocket; leans over carefully. Before lights’s fade they set up camp on the New York side, in Taconic State Park, neighboring diving platform and ranger wears a large-brimmed hat, tanned face, skin wind-worn outdoors in that way. She builds fire in stone and they situate under drizzle. Read by candlelight. Of course the next day they hike Mt. Everett, no one else around, trail beyond brook meets the Appalachian. Alone early Spring mountain.
