vermonnnnt!
Mogglety (oh dear): I'm sorry. I haven't started on your challenge yet. X__x But vacation has been very sunny and decidedly non-gothic. I WILL WRITE IT. Perhaps when I must return and sit in math class then I'll feel like writing a gothic story! Meanwhile, one day of the vacation follows.
On Tuesday I went for the day with my parents to Vermont. It was wonderful. I think it is one of the most beautiful states - certainly one of the most beautiful that I have seen - literally all winding roads through densely forested hills and mountains, overlooking patchwork valleys. It's a pure and friendly sort of place.
Last summer I went with my parents and two family friends from New Mexico to Vermont for three days, but it felt quite a bit longer because we ended up in two, three, or four new towns every day and explored a lot of the state. It was especially amazing when we went far up north into the Green Mountains, lush and verdant in midsummer, on thin ribbony roads almost swallowed by the hills, and drove for hours through pure country.
Since the summer I hadn't been to Vermont. This time we didn't go far north, but remained in the southern part of the state. We were, however, on the same roads that we travelled last summer, and it was interesting and wonderful to see the same hills and forests that I last saw bursting with green in their winter appearance - spindly and rickety branches, tops brushing the changeable sky.
We left in the morning and got breakfast for the road at a coffee place down the street. As we passed through a village and entered the Rhode Island countryside I ate a croissant and looked out the window at frozen ponds and woods. I gazed at lovely, kind-looking country houses and wondered about the people who live there and wondered if their children love to explore the woods as I would if I lived there.
The morning drive through the country was lovely, musical. I was disappointed to emerge onto the wide highway, feeling like I had left a sort of sanctuary. On the highway we passed bigger towns that made me long to find countryside again and hide by cottages. Eventually we did enter countryside again, in Massachusetts, toward the Berkshires (hilly and beautiful northern Massachusetts).
We left the highway and entered a small town, whose main street had at least three churches - I love those classic white New England churches - and went down one of its narrow roads, past more houses about which I loved to dream. These houses' back yards were fields that stretch uninterrupted to the mountainous hills and woods therein - magically. I saw a little girl with a broom going across a little pool of ice in her yard and thought that it would be enchanting to have those mountains right behind one's house, and forests to explore.
Then we went to a motorcycle shop. Random? But we had seen a sign on the road for a Harley Davidson shop and my dad, who loves motorcycles, had to go. So we went in and walked round a bit, then we saw displayed hundreds and hundreds of gleaming, shining trophies. My mom asked who they belonged to and the man who worked there said, "Oh, that's Al."
Then we met Al. He came out and told us about how he raced motorcycles in "endurance races" and talked about his last race, a winter race in Connecticut where it had been five degrees Fahrenheit out and he had ridden over ice and snow. He is 62 and joked about how he had beaten the 25-year-old kids who had also been in the race and whenever he got excited he did a little jig or clapped or something. He talked with a Maine accent and made fun of me for being a prissy vegetarian after noticing my "vegan" boots. And he told us about all his races and competitions, how he travelled all over the world: Switzerland, Italy! He talked about a race on the island of Elba - yes, the one to which Napoleon was exiled! He said that the motorcyclists sped down the little roads and were cheered by islanders drinking tiny cups of espresso at outdoor cafes. Then he showed us the motorcycles that he races with, and showed us the tires they use for crossing the frozen tundra(!) in northern Europe, huge tires with inches-long studs. He talked with my parents about how arrogant Americans tend to be, how friendly the people he met all over the world were, and bid my parents come back so they could talk about "world things".
Then, it was on to Vermont. We went to a small and beautiful town called Chester, where the houses are fairytale gingerbread Victorians, and the wooded hills rise up all around. Our destination was a restaurant called "Raspberries and Tyme" (yes, no h) which had been recommended by relatives, but when we got to the restaurant - housed in an orange, yellow and green Victorian house - it was closed. We were disappointed, but then we went down the street to another place called the "Moon Dog Café" and I had an exquisite homemade veggie burger and for dessert a ginger scone with ginger whipped cream. It was a very Vermont-ish place, seeing as Vermont-ers are known for being hippie-ish and love things like organic foods and such [which is great because that is what I like too]. The walls were bright pink and orange and the windows had colorful translucent curtains, and the people who worked there were very nice and happy-seeming.
After we left the cafe, we went a few houses down to a vintage clothes store, filled with racks of old dresses and things. I got a full-length swishy red skirt with buttons up the side. We went to a bookstore, small and lovely, and walked around for a while. My parents, who have a knack for making friends with strangers, talked to the owner of the bookstore and I came over eventually and said a few things too. She was lovely, the kind of lady who looks like she belongs owning a bookstore in a small Vermont country town. She talked a little about her daughters who live in New York City and about the authors who come to the bookstore sometimes.
Eventually, we went a little way to another small town, and went to the Vermont Country Store, which is a rambling wooden place, filled with toys and sweaters and soap and cheese and cider and a thousand other things homemade in Vermont. It's a great place to play in but we had to hurry up a bit as the store was closing within the half hour.
When we left, we stopped at a ledge overlooking a frozen lake to take pictures at dusk. Then we left the town. My mom and I had a great urge to go to Hannaford, which is a lovely grocery store in Vermont, and so we went to one in another town and had a great deal of fun going through the aisles buying things like Ben & Jerry's yogurt and muffins and cider. We laughed a lot and went outside, where night had fallen. We had a classic on-the-road dinner of yogurt and muffins and granola and started home.
On Tuesday I went for the day with my parents to Vermont. It was wonderful. I think it is one of the most beautiful states - certainly one of the most beautiful that I have seen - literally all winding roads through densely forested hills and mountains, overlooking patchwork valleys. It's a pure and friendly sort of place.
Last summer I went with my parents and two family friends from New Mexico to Vermont for three days, but it felt quite a bit longer because we ended up in two, three, or four new towns every day and explored a lot of the state. It was especially amazing when we went far up north into the Green Mountains, lush and verdant in midsummer, on thin ribbony roads almost swallowed by the hills, and drove for hours through pure country.
Since the summer I hadn't been to Vermont. This time we didn't go far north, but remained in the southern part of the state. We were, however, on the same roads that we travelled last summer, and it was interesting and wonderful to see the same hills and forests that I last saw bursting with green in their winter appearance - spindly and rickety branches, tops brushing the changeable sky.
We left in the morning and got breakfast for the road at a coffee place down the street. As we passed through a village and entered the Rhode Island countryside I ate a croissant and looked out the window at frozen ponds and woods. I gazed at lovely, kind-looking country houses and wondered about the people who live there and wondered if their children love to explore the woods as I would if I lived there.
The morning drive through the country was lovely, musical. I was disappointed to emerge onto the wide highway, feeling like I had left a sort of sanctuary. On the highway we passed bigger towns that made me long to find countryside again and hide by cottages. Eventually we did enter countryside again, in Massachusetts, toward the Berkshires (hilly and beautiful northern Massachusetts).
We left the highway and entered a small town, whose main street had at least three churches - I love those classic white New England churches - and went down one of its narrow roads, past more houses about which I loved to dream. These houses' back yards were fields that stretch uninterrupted to the mountainous hills and woods therein - magically. I saw a little girl with a broom going across a little pool of ice in her yard and thought that it would be enchanting to have those mountains right behind one's house, and forests to explore.
Then we went to a motorcycle shop. Random? But we had seen a sign on the road for a Harley Davidson shop and my dad, who loves motorcycles, had to go. So we went in and walked round a bit, then we saw displayed hundreds and hundreds of gleaming, shining trophies. My mom asked who they belonged to and the man who worked there said, "Oh, that's Al."
Then we met Al. He came out and told us about how he raced motorcycles in "endurance races" and talked about his last race, a winter race in Connecticut where it had been five degrees Fahrenheit out and he had ridden over ice and snow. He is 62 and joked about how he had beaten the 25-year-old kids who had also been in the race and whenever he got excited he did a little jig or clapped or something. He talked with a Maine accent and made fun of me for being a prissy vegetarian after noticing my "vegan" boots. And he told us about all his races and competitions, how he travelled all over the world: Switzerland, Italy! He talked about a race on the island of Elba - yes, the one to which Napoleon was exiled! He said that the motorcyclists sped down the little roads and were cheered by islanders drinking tiny cups of espresso at outdoor cafes. Then he showed us the motorcycles that he races with, and showed us the tires they use for crossing the frozen tundra(!) in northern Europe, huge tires with inches-long studs. He talked with my parents about how arrogant Americans tend to be, how friendly the people he met all over the world were, and bid my parents come back so they could talk about "world things".
Then, it was on to Vermont. We went to a small and beautiful town called Chester, where the houses are fairytale gingerbread Victorians, and the wooded hills rise up all around. Our destination was a restaurant called "Raspberries and Tyme" (yes, no h) which had been recommended by relatives, but when we got to the restaurant - housed in an orange, yellow and green Victorian house - it was closed. We were disappointed, but then we went down the street to another place called the "Moon Dog Café" and I had an exquisite homemade veggie burger and for dessert a ginger scone with ginger whipped cream. It was a very Vermont-ish place, seeing as Vermont-ers are known for being hippie-ish and love things like organic foods and such [which is great because that is what I like too]. The walls were bright pink and orange and the windows had colorful translucent curtains, and the people who worked there were very nice and happy-seeming.
After we left the cafe, we went a few houses down to a vintage clothes store, filled with racks of old dresses and things. I got a full-length swishy red skirt with buttons up the side. We went to a bookstore, small and lovely, and walked around for a while. My parents, who have a knack for making friends with strangers, talked to the owner of the bookstore and I came over eventually and said a few things too. She was lovely, the kind of lady who looks like she belongs owning a bookstore in a small Vermont country town. She talked a little about her daughters who live in New York City and about the authors who come to the bookstore sometimes.
Eventually, we went a little way to another small town, and went to the Vermont Country Store, which is a rambling wooden place, filled with toys and sweaters and soap and cheese and cider and a thousand other things homemade in Vermont. It's a great place to play in but we had to hurry up a bit as the store was closing within the half hour.
When we left, we stopped at a ledge overlooking a frozen lake to take pictures at dusk. Then we left the town. My mom and I had a great urge to go to Hannaford, which is a lovely grocery store in Vermont, and so we went to one in another town and had a great deal of fun going through the aisles buying things like Ben & Jerry's yogurt and muffins and cider. We laughed a lot and went outside, where night had fallen. We had a classic on-the-road dinner of yogurt and muffins and granola and started home.
posted by Laura at 8:46 AM
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