Rose Perlmutter has spent a lifetime pursuing adventure and peace in the outdoors. In this memoir, she uses her nature lens to examine the stages of that life. Poignant, humorous, and snarky chapters deal with belonging, parenting, Women’s Lib, body image, outdoor snobbery, death, and even sex. As a child, Perlmutter studied outdoor education books and knew what to do in an emergency. If you were bitten by a snake, she was prepared to cut you with a knife and suck out the poison. If you were being stalked by a bad guy, she could teach you to step softly, soundlessly in the forest. Since there was no forest in Yonkers, New York, she taught herself to step softly, soundlessly around the hardened dog turds in front of her apartment house. People who have grown up in an urban apartment house can relate to the American Dream of finally buying their own home in the “country.” Perlmutter defines country as any place where there is some grass, a tree, no garbage room, and no subway. On their suburban deck, as her husband grills steaks, drinks wine, and adds up the money he is saving by not going to a restaurant, Perlmutter remembers the mountain man of her dreams. Ah, mountains! In the mountains of Wyoming, there’s a trail named “Rose’s Trail.” It’s about forty-eight and one half inches wide, and if it hasn’t rained, it’s probably still there. You might want to visit that trail after you read Perlmutter’s book.
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