ok, so a little more about the boxing on Saturday:
there were two parks we went to, one in my old hometown in western MA, and one about 6 miles away, in CT. Both of these places are parks i used to . . . well, i was not a well-behaved teen. Oh, i went to church regularly and was a fine, upstanding member of the choir, but i was also known to the riffraff in town and the local police. My parents didn't know that, but then, this was a gentler time and place, and i'm female, so i talked my way out of a lot of trouble.
Times have not changed that much in either place. When we arrived at the first park, there sat a gaggle of teens, in the parking lot, with paint guns, of all things. They did giggle much when 2 adult women in their late 40's hoofed it off into the woods, crawling through the downed tree to get over the bridge. What i didn't know at the time is that there were other letterboxers in said woods, hunting the same box. We seem to have found it and they didn't (they had the wrong bridge and wrong 2-sister birch. There's something to be said for being from somewhere and reading the whole clue - you missed the cubist reddish rock, Grade A. ) How do i know? Ah, the wonders of AQ!
The OTHER park (the park of the leaning snag) is really beautiful. It's also right by the river, and full of twisty twiny paths where one can . . . well, party hearty is a good way to put it. And on this particular warm, sunny, late fall Saturday, the park was rather full of teens looking to. . . well, yes, party hearty. We had finished the series, the Fuzzwalds and Mr. Umbrella and i (after winding around in lots of pines and oaks and all, it ends right by the Scantic river - i really highly recommend this pretty little series). Mr. Fuzzwald and Mr. Umbrella had gone on ahead, because neither one really likes the fussing, so Mrs. Fuzzwald and i were coming along behind. It was getting dark, when lo and behold, all the blazes on the trees disappeared. We were a little concerned, so, well, we turned around, thinking perhaps we'd missed the trail - since it sorta looked like it was going in the wrong direction and up a hill we didn't remember to get back to the parking lot. Encountering the teens we'd passed before, we asked for directions. They assured us that yes, up the hill and to the right was the parking lot. No, they didn't want to walk us out; they were sort of camped for the night. And on that cue, i hurried Mrs. Fuzzwald outa there!! Ah yes, upon reaching the top of the hill, Mrs. Fuzzwald turned to me and asked, "what's that smell?" That, my dear, is why the teens were camped out and why we are leaving quickly!!
i'm too old for that stuff. Good thing i was only looking for rubber! Just. . . go in the daylight, and not on a weekend!