The Land of Gorges

Before the snowy rock gorges of Ithaca become an ancient land in my memory, I better write something down. As most bumper stickers in the area will point out, “Ithaca is Gorges.” And it is. It’s a land of extremes. A world of winter versus summer – a world this little California native has never experienced… and has now left behind.

Since I’m horrible at blogging, let me just do a little word association and call it a night.

Winter: water frozen to rock walls mid-splash; ponds frozen and broken hundreds of times over; geese cutting V’s across the cluttered clouds; fields of white and black; the smell of fires from chimneys; rusted cars sliding through the slush; abandoned barns; vacant Collegetown; numb fingers; pints of beer & popcorn; furry boots and jackets double your size; snowflakes melting in the heat of the defroster

Summer: boat rides on the Finger Lakes; barbeques every night; stunning sunsets of pink and lavender and yellow beyond reason; music festivals, apple festivals, any sort of festivals; green go-getters setting up shop; tomatoes bursting on branches; sleep and sunrise on the trampoline; dips in the lake

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