Getting just a bit away

Morning at Pillsbury

One of the first of many minor pleasures that Joan and I began practicing some 25 years ago when the kids were still small was state parking. As in quick camping trips to a couple of choice local parks. Joan discovered our favorites early on, and Pillsbury State Park in E. Washington is probably at the top of the list. It’s about 45 minutes from Warner, and you drive down through the back end of Bradford, along a road through a wetlands that for some reason used to give me the creeps…a little too low, a little too dark…a little too, uh, creepy. But it doesn’t anymore. Give me the creeps, that is. Probably because in the intervening 25 years I’ve found quite a bit more in the real world that is sufficient to give me the creeps for real reasons, and I’ve let the imaginary ones fade. Pillsbury is on the state Greenway, a hiking trail from Sunappee on down to, I dunno, but I’m sure it stops short of the Mass border. For what it’s worth (and it’s worth a lot…because the state of NH in its wisdom has decided to charge a premium for the privilege of camping in its campgrounds), there is nothing finer, if you’re in the mood, than a couple of nights on the little lake, listening to the pair of loons, watching the rays of the rising sun come through ropes of mist rising from the water, sipping coffee and wondering why the heck you don’t do this more often when it’s so close and easy.