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Since its summer, I was talking about summers past with friends the other day.
Summer is supposed to be spent in the woods. Collecting
Salamanders, frogs, toads, cataloging them, putting them back exactly
where I found them. Having berry wars with the neighborhood. Climbing
everything. Dirt biking (ala BMX not Honda) through the woods and
sandpits. Finding bullet shells there to make whistles. Picking our
way trough the swamps, trying not to get lost or wet or eaten alive by
mosquitos. Failed on all three counts at different times. Making bows
and arrows from beech tree branches to shoot at frogs. Catching
bullfrogs by moving very quietly behind them while they are distracted
by your other hand in front of them (but not too close to scare them
underwater). Swam at all the nearby beaches, jumped off the Union St.
Bridge into the North river (tidal, brackish water, reversing current,
variable depth). Jumping off the cliffs of the Hingham quarries.
Finding unexplained stashes of 80s porno mags in the woods (who the
hell did that? and all the 13 year old boys of Norwell thanked you).
Jumped the Rte 3 freeway overpass into uncertain waters of the North
River below. Ran up and did it again. Tried to do it again the next
year, but too scared by the height. More North River by the various
rope swings. Building branch and fern lean-to’s to camp out in.
“Parachuting” – climbing a skinny beech tree until it bent, then
hanging from it as it bends all the way to the ground – snapping back
when you release your grip. Going on the one big camping trip each
year, and many smaller ones. New hampshire, Cape Cod, and when really
lucky, Baxter State park Maine, Acadia Maine. Sailing around Hingham
bay in the little Sun Fish single person sailboat.
And on and on. This adult shit is wayyyyyyy overrated.
That said, I did spend the last half a week down in Mexico, and I’ll tell you more about it (with pics and video) real soon. And thats why no posting last week.
