Visiting a dear friend in Vermont, my second favorite state to spend time in. The feeling I get when I cross the bridge on I-89 outside Lebanon, NH, into Vermont, is very similar to the little thrill I get crossing the Piscataqua River Bridge to return home to Maine: this is a place I belong. These cornfields and rolling green hills and the roiling White River and road cuts of schist that I studied in college geology classes, they are familiar and loved. I'm particularly fond of Montpelier, with its gold-domed Capitol, historic buildings, funky shops, views of the Green Mountains, and a river running through it. So today I'm in one of my happy places with one of my closest friends.
As if in a dream--
distant mountains in a haze
beckon me onward.