Steve and I went up to the Northeast Kingdom for the weekend. Everything is blanketed in pure white snow and at night along route 100 the glowing windows of the houses and cow barns are the only lights we see. Snowmobiles race through fields and villages of ice fishing shanties sit smoking on the lakes. And, of course, skiiers on the slopes and trails. Vermont winter has finally come alive. I suddenly realize how active life is around here when it is genuinely winter.
We stayed a night with our friends in Craftsbury. I have always felt that there is something about Craftsbury- a kind of unique, peaceful stillness that I feel whenever we pass through or stop in. One thing I always notice is the treeline and the striking solidarity of the pines. Outside of Craftsbury, the tree tops round out and become thicker and blend together. I guess the best metaphor I can come up with is that if all towns had a musical note, it is as if Craftsbury holds it the longest until it fades away to a ringing stillness. Sounds silly I know, especially when I don’t know anything about music.
My surprisingly painful sore throat has persisted for a week and now I have a lovely cough and deep voice to go along with it. I don’t think I’ve ever had anything for this long.
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