This time of year, hiking in the wilderness usually means one of two things.
If the day is unseasonably warm, you may find yourself sweating within a quarter mile of your hike. All these layers that once seemed like a really good idea are now conspiring to cook your poor self, like steaming an ear of corn. Hmm. Should I walk back to the car and strip off a bit, or (considering the overall hiking experience) should I suffer in silence and keep trying?
On the other hand, on days when the thermometer drops unexpectedly, you may find yourself freezing when you step outside. You know what that's like. One minute your world is in the mid-80s and the next it's in the mid-30s. Oh, I want a sweater! Spring in the south is just like that.
But this temperature issue isn't limited to northern Georgia. Apparently, it's a worldwide phenomenon.
I'm thinking about that as I walk down the main street of Kenmare, a lovely little town in the southwest of Ireland. So we walk into a wool goods store to find a few wool sweaters. She likes sweaters because they keep her warm in the winter, and I like sweaters too. That's because she keeps you warm for 11 months of the year. We believe that Made in Ireland sweaters, made from the wool of Irish sheep, are virtually perfect in every way and make ideal souvenirs. I choose the green one. Hers is a subtle color, almost light blue. It matches her eyes.
I'll also get some gloves. You may remember the gloves I got a few weeks ago. High-tech insulated gloves with no fingertips on the index finger and thumb. Perfect fishing gloves! But (yes) I left them in Georgia. I'm going fishing tomorrow and I need gloves to keep my hands warm. What else to find in the same store but hand-knit fingerless wool gloves? And they fit.
You need a pair, so add them to the pile.
We pay for our sweaters and gloves and head back out into the clear, clean light of an Irish afternoon. It's cool that day. I stuck my hand in my jacket pocket. That helps a little. I think I'll take a new pair of gloves out of my bag and see if they help more –
A shop in Kenmare, Ireland is promoting an offer you won't want to miss.
Steve Hudson/Provided
And then I saw a bold sign advertising hot chocolate. But it's more than just hot chocolate.
“Hot chocolate that will change your life!” I said as I read the sign and the message it proclaimed in bright white letters on a chalkboard-gray background. An arrow points the way to the door, which is surrounded by orange painted trim. Who am I to say no to something like that?
“How is it?” I ask.
She looked at me, hesitated for a moment, and said, “Of course.”
I opened the door for her and entered the small chocolate shop. Behind the glass by the checkout are packages of fudge, flavored chocolate bars, and sweets. I eat some chocolate bars. Have you ever tried orange chocolate? you should.
But what really bothers me is the kind of chocolate that comes in a cup and is designed to be drunk. hot chocolate.
Hot chocolate that will change your life!
Behind the counter is a small kitchen, where the owner sits near a small stove. You can see the pot on the burner.
“Is this the place for life-changing hot chocolate?” you ask.
The shopkeeper looked up and said, “That's right.”
I have to ask.
“Will it change your life for the better?”
Then the shopkeeper looked straight at me and said: oh. Well, maybe so. ”
“Okay, I'll have it!'' I say. “She and I will share it!” Because in a person's life, nothing can be too good.
The owner begins adjusting the drinks. It will be ready after a while. I take a sip. Hot and warm, sweet and smooth.
“Hmm!” I say.
She also takes a sip.
“It's not bad,” she says.
“How about chocolate?” the shopkeeper asks.
“That’s nice,” I say. “And warm. But I'm still wondering what changes to expect.”
The shopkeeper looks at me suspiciously.
“You know what?” I say. “When Hot Chocolate Changed My Life. As the sign says.”
“Oh, that bloody sign,” said the shopkeeper. “It's been there for years. I hate that sign!”
She and I drank some more hot chocolate and then headed back through the door to the street. The hot drinks provided relief from the cold afternoon air as we trudged through the rows of stores as we made our way back to the car.
“Are you feeling any changes?” I ask her. “You know, from the hot chocolate that changed her life.”
“Not yet,” she answered. “But it was very good.”
And she added:
“I don't think I want anything to change.'' She leaned a little closer to me. “I don't think I want anything to change.”
We visit one or two more stores, look, peruse, and savor the day.
She buys yarn. That's the color of my new sweater.
“I’ll knit you a scarf,” she said. “match.”
And she added: “You like scarves.”
i will do it.
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