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Going north. I'm looking good and hard at this part of the country. I remember it. My first American winter escapes. I have plenty of childhood memories of New England. It's a mixed bag. I'm more than happy to make substitutions and changes so that my final take on this places comes off as a positive.
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As we cross from Massachusetts to New Hampshire to Vermont, we lose the leaves. The air gets colder too. We stop for a cup of coffee and comment on the chill. They’re making snow at nearby Killington tonight.
Killington. I skied there thirty five years ago! I remember the week-end: I briefly contemplated downhill racing then (my ambitions were often out of line with my skills). I was fast! And afterwards, I kissed a man with complete infatuation and abandon. Even though we never really exchanged more than a dozen words. He was from Canada, I was from New York and I never saw him again after. We truly had nothing in common.
My daughter and I pass the village of Quechee, Vermont. We’ll be back here for dinner. Right here, in this room hanging over the river and the dam. Right next to the covered bridge.
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The sun is pretty much done with the day by the time we get to Woodstock, our place for the night.
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That’s okay. We’re tired from the drive. We stop at the Woodstocker, an inn just off the road.
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It’s a good time to be here. Off season. The stars outside are just as dense now. More so, I should think.
I pick up a bottle of Vermont wine for later at the butcher’s. Vermont wine. With a cow on the label. Weird confluence of symbols, no? Life’s funny.
I like the cow on the wine bottle..looks intriguing.
ReplyDeleteNow this post takes me back. Chip and I lived in Boston for five years and we spent so many fall weekends and winter weekends in and around Vermont, New Hampshire and Maine. I can feel the chill in the photos, and the low slant of the sun brings back the vague sadness of knowing winter is almost, but not quite, here. Have fun! Where are you spending election night? We're getting up at 1am to watch returns.
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