No wheat beer at my lunchtime local.  Not a disaster; it just means that I have to expand my horizons somewhat and, whilst I am contemplating horizons, a green mountain might form a pleasant backdrop.  A pint of Thornbridge’s Green Mountain.  It is a Vermont IPA, 4.3% ABV.

A hint of green?  Perhaps.  But yellow mountain might be a more apt description, if not so topographically likely.  A sharp, fruity taste.  Notes of… what?  My palate is very poor at distinguishing individual tastes.  Not grapefruit, I hope?  Doesn’t mix well with my statins.  Grapefruit would be my guess.  (Actually it a blend of Galaxy, Mosaic, Citra and Amarillo hops; not a grapefruit in sight. Ed.)  What the hell.  I miss grapefruit.

A long draught.  Does it take me to a green mountain?  I’m not sure it does.  Instead, I am transported back to memories of cheap B&Bs; hushed breakfast rooms; and a bowl of grapefruit segments, served straight from the tin, as a rather posh alternative to Cornflakes. 

Is there a view of a green mountain from the window of my cheap B&B breakfast room?  Another sip, but I’m still not getting it.  Perhaps a field of grass.  If I really try.  I can just about conjure up that.  Newly-mown grass.  It is a bit of a beer cliché.

Perhaps the verdant fecundity of my imagination is being impaired by the presence of the woman at the next table.  She has her laptop open; talking loudly on her phone; no drink.  Who uses a pub as their office without at least buying a drink?  Try as I might, her phone conversation keeps breaking into my attempts to be transported to a green mountain.  On no Platonic ideal of a green mountain is someone stressing that the 4G is not working; or that the job description hasn’t been written yet.

Can I leave her at the foothills?  Climb the green mountain to a point where I can no longer hear her voice?  Emerge into the clear, blue yonder?

My glass is almost empty, and yet I still remain a stranger to the summit of my green mountain.  But, more important, whether it be a pint of beer, a mountain hike, or a mere flight of fancy, I’ve enjoyed the journey.

© Beery Sue

Beery Sue would never have the puff to scale a green mountain.