I met Ivy halfway between Ithaca and Rosendale, in the middle of nowhere, past Homegrown Mini-Golf, past the Norwegian wood farm, past the Jewish Summer camp, past the anti-abortion bilboards, past half an hour of Catskills, next to the Circle Diner.
--- I'm here, I said when I called her.
--- No, I'm here, she said.
--- I was afraid of that, I said.
We found each other and ate grilled cheese for lunch and ice cream for dinner, with a garden center, a library, a graveyard, a trestle, and a chipmunk in between, which was about the extent of what the town had to offer. She left me with her stolen Columbia geranium and a hug. She has the good pictures and you'll have to wait until she sends them to me.