Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Perigee Moon Rising


It was sweet
of Lynne to bring boyfriend Dave to the treehouse for his 38th birthday. They were both
born in the Year of the Ox and, in true Ox form, they work hard. Lynne is employed in an oral surgeon’s office. “We don’t fix teeth,” she says. “We pull teeth and do implants. If you can’t afford to have teeth worked on, you come to us. We are the last resort.”

I stuck my tongue into the gap between two molars, remembering when my mother had one of my teeth pulled. Too many marshmallow chickens at Easter, I guess. The surgeon should have put an implant in the space to keep the other molars from slanting, causing the gum to recede. Anyway, too much information. And it’s too late for undoing the damage.

Lynne’s teeth are straight and white. She has that rosy disposition you expect when you go in to have your teeth looked at. Sweet. Polite. Instantly likable.


Dave is a plumber, working mostly on corporate buildings. He starts at 7:00 a.m. and by 3:30, he’s done for the day and off to the gym. He’s a big guy with a trimmed beard, and he wore a funny checkered driver cap the whole time he was in Fern Forest. He and Lynne have been hanging together for six months. They seem a good fit.


They had dinner at the Bobcat and afterward, on the waitress’s recommendation, drove a half hour to Middlebury to watch the basketball playoffs at Two Brothers, a sports bar frequented by the college students. It was a clear, cold night with a bad moon rising. Meteorologists call it a perigee moon, when the orb is full and the closest to the earth it can get. There are forebodings of natural disasters associated with the “bad moon,” but that Saturday night was calm. Lynne and Dave returned safely to Fern Forest and cuddled into the treehouse. No disasters. No drama. A quiet night with the giant moon casting tree shadows over the snow.


H was in the midst of a weekend hockey tournament, but he made cheese omelets, cooked up some bacon, and put them in the oven to keep warm before he left for the Sunday morning game. He wasn’t disappointed to lose because a win meant his team would have to play in the finals that afternoon. He plays Sunday nights in another league, and that would have made six games in four days. He can’t get enough.


After they had breakfast, Lynne and Dave sat in the living room and read about the Ox in my Chinese zodiac book. It seems Dave is shy but schemes. Stay on his good side. Lynne has lots of energy. She runs half marathons when she can and is a daily five or six-miler.


“How do you do it?” I asked.


“Music,” she said. “I couldn’t run without my iPod.”

I’d like to get her song list.

Dave gave me plumbing advice about installing an outdoor shower. He made it sound easy. Then I picked his brain about putting an addition on the south side of the house to extend the kitchen. He made that sound easy, too. I have a feeling he was just being nice.


Lynne said she’d like to hike Mt. Abe on their next trip. This trip she brought only city shoes. Dave said he’d have to get into better shape to keep up with her. She patted his tummy. She had gone on a run before they drove up from Somerville, Massachusetts, but this Sunday morning there was only kicking back, watching the mountain change as the sun moved over it, drinking another cup of coffee, enjoying a few more minutes of the peace of Fern Forest.

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