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hey water,

sorry i didn't get back to you earlier. i felt out of sorts all day. what a sweet request. thank you. i can't imagine there is a more colorful corner on earth than vermont just after the hunter's moon. dreamy. i slept alone in smuggler's notch. woke up to the first frost. my feet were frozen solid i swear! i saw a bald eagle migration right then and there as the sun dueled the moon for the time's keeper. as i got into town the clouds were nesting in the valley hiding all the trees, an icy blanket on the farmer's land turned the rolling hills pale and there was steam stirring just above his streams and ponds. when the moon finally gave in a burst of color reclaimed the day. each and every morning. it's fall into winter. robert frost country is a dream of life and death. 'the woods are lovely, dark and deep...' i had lake willoughby and her trails all to my own on a sunny afternoon. i drove the back roads through the kingdom, picked apples and ate cider doughnuts. i got lost in the green mountain national forest, day-dreaming near a nameless perfect stream. i climbed mount mansfield in a day's effort -- the north ridge trail from halfway house to sunset ridge is both horrific and stunning. i made peace with the mountain 4,400 ft up as i ate an avocado with an old hunting knife a new friend had loaned me (it belonged to his father). the boy at the chin, employed by the green mountain club, nearly rivaled the view of the adirondacks, champlain, canada and beyond. . i love vermont and thought of you and your truck and your life once there.

love

air