A Post Card From Home
One of the realities of a rural life is the never ending relationship one develops with the land. Vermont is, in my completely biased opinion, the most beautiful place on earth; an opinion shared by most of Vermont’s children.
My home, the Champlain Valley, is wedged between the rocky peaks of the Green Mountains and the shores of Lake Champlain. For 23 years I’ve watched the sun crest the foothills of Mt. Mansfield and set gently behind the towering Adirondacks, with purple and orange flakes of dusk dancing brilliantly off the clear waters of St. Albans Bay.
Much of my life away from home has been spent trapped inside a car. Most of the paved roads around here are designed to take you away; to a final destination that has the flash and dash of everyday urban life.
I’ve passed white line after redundant white line on Interstates 89, 91, 95, 93, The Mass-Pike, Le Autoroute Decaire, The Merit Parkway, The Trans-Canadian Highway - any one of a thousand roads that twist and turn through the hills and valleys of the northeast.
I’ve been stuck in the bowels of Boston at four in the afternoon as commuters rush desperately to beat the rat race back to Woburn, Winchester or wherever they rest their tired heads as the sun sinks below the Charles.
I remember well, the first time I watched the lights of Springfield, MA climb from three hours of darkness, only to watch them recede into the night that envelops Northern Connecticut.
I’ve seen the endless kilometers of nothing that is western Quebec, until the great Canadian wilderness opens to her capital, with its Victorian structures screaming civilization from weathered, copper roof tops.
I’ve traveled the stretch of farmland that surrounds Montréal, as the green pastures finally bow and give way to all that lies beyond the northern bank of the St. Lawrence. I’ve crested the Champlain Bridge and set my eyes upon that magnificent lady perched high atop Mount Royal. A Queen on her throne, with lights pouring from head to toe, only to be lost forever in search of the cold waters of the Atlantic.
Yet no matter where the pavement takes me, there is no image that rivals the sight of soft pines and sandy soil withering to hardwood, maple forests and rolling, green, hillside pastures; when the Connecticut river passes beneath me and New Hampshire fades into Vermont, into home.
This past week winter made its last stand; as the remnants of ice and snow finally withdrew their claim to the land, and old man winter caught the last train out of town.
Amen.
I’m not alone. Vermont will do this to you too, I promise. Like the siren’s song of the great Odyssey, Vermont will swallow your soul and tarnish whatever postcards you keep in your head.
There are thousands of Vermonters scattered across the globe. All of whom hear the call of home in their heads and in their hearts. One of these Vermonters is stationed in Germany serving in the United States Army. He is, without any doubt, my oldest friend. Serving his country is something he has talked about since he was three years old. As winter becomes spring, sap buckets adorn maple trees and the sweet sings of summer linger in the distance, I know all too well how much the Green Mountains tug on his soul and how he yearns for the lights of home.
I hope this post card finds you well. The snow is almost gone from the face of Mt. Mansfield and the ice on the bay is on its way out. The dirt roads in and around town are hardly drivable; mud season is a small price to pay for three months of summer in St. Albans. Soon enough, brown becomes green and in Vermont, “nature’s first green is gold.”
The summer of an election in Vermont year is a marathon of parades and county fairs, debates and discussion. The next few months will, undoubtedly, be exciting. But for now, as the Democratic primary drags on, I’ll sit back, and take a deep breath; another cold, hard winter has passed. And as green becomes gold, its hard not to remember the words of President Calvin Coolidge:
"Vermont is a state I love. I could not look upon the peaks of Ascutney, Killington, Mansfield and Equinox without being moved in a way that no other scene could move me. It was here that I first saw the light of day; here I receive my bride; here my dead lie, pillowed on the loving breast of our everlasting hills. I love Vermont because of her hills and valleys, her scenery and invigorating climate, but most of all because of her indomitable people. They are a race of pioneers who have almost beggared themselves to serve others. If the spirit of liberty should vanish in other parts of the union and support of our institutions should languish, it could all be replenished from the generous store held by the people of this brave little state of Vermont."
Always Gold.
Front of Post Card:
http://think.mtv.com/044FDFFFF0098A0C400070098E4FC/