I wonder if I didn't take Vermont a little bit for granted before I moved away. I also think visitors normally come during the good seasons and see Vermont in its best dressed form. Visiting during mud season may be a little bit like walking in on grandpa naked
If it sounds too good to be true, its probably . . . .
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- Location: southeast massachusetts
Your musing is very touching. I think it happens with a lot of things in life....the ones with the straight hair wish theirs was curly, yet the ones with the curly hair wish theirs was straight etc. We so often take for granted what we have because it's "there" and tend to lose appreciation for it.
I agree with Andy's thoughts (well except for the naked grandpa part) We all visit Vermont when it is at it's finest. I'm a lucky one who owns a home in VT but it's not my primary residence. I can pick and choose when I visit my VT home. My husband always says he will retire in VT. I tell him......have fun.......I'll be up to visit you from June through October and then I'm outta there!
I could never do it. Too many kids and grandkids are in Texas. And, it would require an amazing infusion of capital which is rather lacking these days. So I content myself with the occasional autumn flings and count myself blessed just to be able to do that.
On Saturday I flew back home from an all too brief visit to Vermont. Even more unfortunately, it is to be my only one of the year (the mixed blessings of too much work at the office and a little one I adore at home).
As you know, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday were not tourism board dream days, weather-wise. So, even though I had a great time, I was left less than fulfilled (and my memory cards left less than filled).
How jealous I am of those who were able to have all of a gorgeous Saturday and Sunday weekend to look forward to. I scrambled up to Equinox Pond for an all-too-brief hand-held shoot en route to the airport. And that was the extent of the time I had where Vermont had a chance to grant to my lenses it greatest gifts of fall color.
On my way back to my car, I stopped and photographed a home. That is something I never do. Things built by man's hand, unless as part of a truly urban landscape, are not my focus. And, in fairness, it wasn't my real objective in this case.
My eye was initially drawn by an American flag, illuminated by the early morning light and its primary colors standing in stark contrast to the subtle hues of the clouds lit to pastel perfection by the still rising sun. I couldn't help but be covetous of the lucky soul who gets to step out of their door and look across the Battenkill Valley.
That person need only wish it and it is there. In that alternative world, the cost of my airline ticket replaced by their desire to sacrifice a little sleep. My hours spent in far-flung airports and soaring tin cans replaced by padding across their living room or, worst case scenario, a brief drive. My desperate uncertainty over weather forecasts and the vagaries of the trees' plans for a fall fashion show replaced with a certainty that if today isn't what is desired, likely tomorrow will be.
How I wished I could trade places with him/her in that moment as I closed my car door on Vermont one last time and struck off toward Albany and a well appointed aerial paddy wagon returning me to flat lands and demure leaves.
In a way, you make me feel better knowing that perhaps I shouldn't be so quick to envy. That being said, I'd sure love to get to enjoy the transition from temporary to torpor.
But my husband and I too dream of maybe retiring to Vermont, each trip we talk of looking for land, but then I am yanked back to realitiy, as I realize I am Mom and Grandma first and this is where family is.
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