We’ve now lived in New England somewhere in the vicinity of eleven years.
While there is a part of me that will forever be California, I have to admit with the sole exception of weather (I will never accept that more than two seasons, one wet & the other dry are natural) I have found deep resonances with the culture and beauty of this region.
One regular place we visit is Brattleboro, Vermont. It is a tiny town right at the bottom of the state. We’ve visited something approaching a dozen times over these years in pretty much all seasons. There are only something in the neighborhood of twelve thousand souls here. But it is a center for art and alternative culture. I haven’t counted the number of bookstores here. Old. Funky. Interesting. Mocho Joe’s pulls a first rate latte. Life is good.
We’ve even fantasized from time to time that this would be a lovely place to retire. Somewhere within walking distance of the downtown.
Of course, it is both too small for the likes of true city people and for me there’s that weather thing. I’ve observed with my own eyes that it snows and I mean snows here…
Jan and I are spending the weekend wandering the state. And this is just the first stop, a place to spend the night and wake up and get a cuppa and then move on north.
But such a lovely place to pause.
A lovely, lovel place.
A breath of clean air and that artistic energy that can birth many good things.
Including a renewed spirit…
You should visit sometime…
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