Dirt roads

Eve and Paul’s daughter sent a text yesterday morning saying she was driving in a day early. She arrived just after dark. I gave Izzy one last full body rub and a kiss on top of her head before leaving. All I did when I arrived home was take a long, steamy shower, put on my favorite pajamas and crawl into bed to read until I fell asleep.

This morning I decided it was time for a pedicure. On a whim, I followed it with a manicure. Manicures are tricky in that I always have to talk the manicurist into doing what I want, which is a manicure without polish. Polish dries my fingernails so badly they will break endlessly for a few months. About 20 percent of the time I get what want. Generally the person will nod, nod, nod and tell me to go pick a polish. It was that way today. Is there a union rule I don’t know about?

I had left my phone plugged into the car to charge. When I checked it, I found a couple of ninety-minute old texts from Blaine asking how my day was going and if I had interest in going for a walk. Using my thumbs, shiny nails the shade of “Got the Blues for Red,” I responded that I did have time and asked what he had in mind.

Since I was Izzy-free, we agreed to take full advantage of the unusually warm day and follow some trails along a river about a half hour from the city. He gave me time to get home, change into jeans and dig out the hiking shoes from the back of the closet. I was pushing my freshly painted (“I’m Not Really a Waitress”) toes into my favorite-for-walking bamboo socks when the doorbell rang.

Energized by the sunshine, the last-minute plans and, frankly, finding Blaine standing on my front porch wearing blue jeans, scuffed hiking boots and a flannel shirt over a t-shirt in what was the perfect amount of nonsloppy casualness, I opened the door with an ultra-peppy, “Hi!”

His eyebrows rose and a grin formed. “Hi. You seem to be in an especially good mood.”

I shrugged. “I slept all night without a cold nose pressing on the small of my back waking me up. I dressed without anything licking my hands and feet.” I concluded, “I am feeling refreshed.”

“I’ll try not to let either happen through the course of the day.” I nearly told him not to be hasty, but we’re not at that level of...whatever…yet.

The temperature was already in the sixties and the breeze was mild. Since I tend to run warm I doubted I’d need more than the long sleeve shirt over a tank top that I had on but I grabbed a lightweight denim jacket anyway.

When Blaine started the car, the radio came on. I stopped him from automatically turning it off, wanting to see what he was listening to, but he reached in and punched it off. “Tell me what you are expecting.”

I thought through the XM channels I’ve come across. “Disney Channel. That French country-music channel. Canadian pop.”

“I've let Disney go,” he said dryly.

I sized him up. It took longer than it should have because I got sidetracked by the color of his eyes. They are a really pretty blue. But anyway. “The obvious is one of the jazz channels.”

“And? Two more.”

“In addition to those I already guessed?”

“Please.”

I calculated what years he was in high school and factored in that he’s a farm kid. “A classic rock station and…” I wanted to guess a country station but that didn’t seem right for him. “Is there a local station near where you grew up, one with hourly hog market reports? That’s my third guess.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. He pressed the power button. Lynyrd Skynyrd was playing on Classic Rewind. On that tier of favorites he also had Classic Vinyl, Classic Jazz, Siriusly Sinatra and an ESPN channel.

“Who is good?” I asked it with too much enthusiasm, as if I were talking to Izzy.

“You are!” he responded perfectly.

We hadn’t left my driveway yet, but the tone was set for the rest of the day.

Neither of us knew exactly where to go once we reached the turnoff after the river. There is a narrow, curving highway that follows the river, passes a small town and a few farms, and ends at a major highway near a larger town. There’s a paved bike trail that parallels the highway on the river side, but we were looking for trails the led up the bluff.

Nothing along the way suggested where to park or whether we needed a park permit. We backtracked to a building we knew belonged to Game and Parks. They sold us a one-day permit and gave us a really poor map showing some trails and parking areas.

We started out on the bike trail which kept us close to the river. Where it ended, a narrower well-worn dirt path started. It was soft in spots but well-packed and walkable. The better trails were across the highway and up the bluff. We crossed where we could and followed the markers. I wanted to go off-trail to follow a deer track. Blaine couldn’t be talked into it. He’s a rule follower, as I am usually, but I have a hard time not taking routes that look interesting.

I asked, “Do you ever go down minimum maintenance roads for the fun of it?” I’m drawn to those roads that have been abandoned by the county and have reverted to narrowed dirt lanes. Most often they are used by farmers to access entrances to fields, so they can be terribly rutted and dangerous to the underbody of low cars like mine. It’s along those roads that you find wild plums or thickets of blackberries, and beautiful old farmhouses left alone so long they are gray and look as if they’re sighing for the last time.

“Not really,” he said. “That’s what you like to do?”

“I’m drawn to them. You never know what you might find.”

“Like a bridge that washed out a decade ago and no place to turn around.”

“Or, Mr. Glass Half Empty, something interesting like foundations from a town that didn’t make it, or a cemetery. There are stories down each of those roads,” I declared.

“And lawsuits.”

We laughed. In fact, the rest of the afternoon could be summed up with “we laughed.”

The sunlight was weakening by the time we returned to Blaine’s SUV. We were both hungry and agreed to try out a well-known bar that’s the main attraction in the little town we had passed. The parking lot was full even though it was early. We found out that Saturday is prime rib night, a big draw. There was an hour wait for a table, so we settled in at the bar and emptied glasses of Diet Coke until we were no longer thirsty. I switched to beer out of a feeling of obligation since we were taking up space at the bar. Blaine stuck with pop.

Once we were seated, the meals arrived quickly. We both ordered the prime rib and thought it was good. We didn’t linger since there was a line of people waiting for tables.

Getting into the car, I looked up. Blaine followed my eyes. “What?” he asked. I told him I hadn’t noticed starts in a long time. It has been a long, overcast winter, plus light pollution in the city takes a toll.

Blaine turned out of the parking lot and headed opposite of the way we came. This route would take longer, but I’ve never tired of spending time with him. I was puzzled, though, when he turned off the highway right after we crossed back over the river. We were still within the park on a narrow, bumpy dirt road. Both sides were lined by trees and brush, with occasional breaks on the river side. He slowed down and watched for something. I asked him what he was looking for. “I’m going to try to find you some stars,” he said. A little further on there was another break in the trees, and he carefully turned. There had been a sign but I didn’t catch what it said. Soon it was clear. We were at a boat launch. Blaine stopped at the water’s edge. He opened the moonroof and windows, and turned off the engine. The air and breeze were still wonderfully warm. Once the interior lights went out, it was as dark as it’s possible to find so close to towns. I couldn’t see the river but could hear water lapping. We tilted the seats back a bit to make it easier to look through the moonroof. There were a lot of stars out. It was so quiet.

“This may be the best dirt road find yet,” I said.

“In high school we used dirt roads as parking spots.”

I looked over at him. It was so dark I could only tell that his head was turned toward me as well. “Interesting.”

“Let’s see if I have this right: No cold noses, no licking hands and feet.”