Isn’t it magnificent, Janine? Majestic is really the word for it. I tell you, there is nothing quite so awe-inspiring as Connecticut in mid-October. Everywhere you look, it’s a veritable symphony of colors — amber, gold, burgundy, sienna! Each individual leaf is a thing of wonder to behold! And there are millions of them! We are just so blessed. So very, very blessed.
This is my favorite time of year, Janine, no doubt about it. Sure, you can talk about Van Gogh and Picasso all you like, but to me, God is the greatest artist of all time. He outdoes them all. And every autumn, He paints us one masterpiece after another, using the world around us as His enormous canvas. It’s hard to believe this is all simply the result of chlorophyll in leaves breaking down.
And speaking of things breaking down, have you noticed that our marriage has been in freefall for the last six months at least? I mean, we hardly speak to each other anymore. Most of the time, we can’t even bother to exchange simple pleasantries at the end of the day. Ouch, am I right?
Oh, but who needs words when we have gorgeous scenery like this to inspire us? Look around you, Janine! Acres and acres of trees! Trees everywhere you look! Ash, oak, maple… probably some others! It’s truly breathtaking. Am I still actually breathing? Let me check. Yep. Still inhaling and exhaling. Same as always.
I don’t know why exactly, but somehow I just feel totally free when I’m hiking out here in the woods! Remember freedom, Janine? It’s what we both had before we entered into this marriage of convenience eight years ago. Good times. Good, good times. And then we got married.
Hey, look, it’s a charming little wooden foot bridge! Let’s cross it while secretly fantasizing about throwing ourselves or each other over the side and ending this soul-deadening charade we call a marriage! Doesn’t that sound like fun? Watch your step, Janine! Don’t let me catch you slipping. I’m just teasing. Don’t take it so personally.
Maybe later, we can do some antiquing in town while not talking to each other at all. Then we can go to that orchard and get some cider that we’ll drink in stony silence while avoiding eye contact with each other. You think there are any good lawyers nearby? Oh, no reason. Just asking, just asking. Can’t a person ask a simple question without getting the third degree? Jesus Christ, Janine. I’m just curious about this lovely little New England community and its people, that’s all.
You know, watching the leaves die all around us, it’s difficult not to be a little envious. I mean, envious of the people who live here and get to see this fantastic scenery all the time. That’s all I meant. Don’t read too much into it, Janine. I’m just trying to make conversation.
Say, apropos of nothing, have you ever heard of a case where someone walked into a corn maze and then just never walked out again? Like, that was the last you ever saw of them for all time? Pretty sure I saw a decent-sized corn maze a few miles back. Maybe I’ll ask the people who run it. They’d know.
Gosh, as fun as this nature hike is — and, believe me, it’s been a blast and a half — I’m really looking forward to spending the night at the rustic little bed-and-breakfast you found online before suspiciously deleting your search history from Chrome. It was so nice of them to rent us two separate, nonadjacent rooms and not ask a lot of nosy questions. Imagine, I’ll finally get to spend an entire night without having to deal with your sleep apnea. If only there were some permanent solution to that problem so I’d never have to hear the wheeze of your C-PAP machine for the rest of my life. Hmmm. I wonder what that solution could possibly be?
Say, just hypothetically, how would you feel if we got home and all your possessions were in a storage unit downtown?
But we can worry about all that later. For now, let’s just bask in the splendor of New England in the autumn. There is truly no place I’d rather be. Not even alone on a couch watching television in an apartment where I live all by myself and can set the thermostat to whatever temperature I want. Sweet as that would be, this is even sweeter.
And just think — we have four more states to go! Vermont, here we come! I can’t wait! So glad we decided to devote an entire week and a half to this!
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Originally from Flint, MI, but now making his home in the suburbs of Chicago, Joe Blevins is a self-described darkener of doorsteps and a chronicler of all things that truly do not matter. Of late, he has been wasting the time of readers through The A.V. Club, Splitsider, and his own blog, Dead 2 Rights, which used to be about zombies before those became a cliche. Now it’s about god knows what.
