I’m writing this as I sit by the Gihon River with my feet up on a log, drinking a Canadian beer, wearing a t-shirt. It’s 72 degrees at the end of October in northern Vermont!
Is it cheating to not work in the studio all afternoon? Maybe, but I couldn’t resist; this was a perfect day to take a walk around the village of Johnson.
There are a few trees left with some fall foliage but for the most part, fall peaked about two weeks ago up here. Though most of the trees are bare, there are a few stubborn holdouts and boy am I glad they waited for me.
The colors around town are very dramatic; besides the lingering foliage, many buildings are painted red, yellow or white. So there is a delightful variety and placement of colors at any given time: a red tree in front of a white house. A yellow tree all alone. A red tree against a red building. And like any good fall scene in New England, the reds and yellows play off the green grass and blue sky.
The skies and the river and the hills have tapped into a need in me that I tend to deny and forget…I’ve been hungry for these colors, and to see trees and hear running water. It’s great to feel natural gravel and grass under my feet, as well as man-made touches that I haven’t felt underfoot for a while, like wooden porch boards and carpeting.
Variety is the spice of life, isn’t it?
Besides these personal connections with nature, there are also the communal kind. We save food scraps to feed to local pigs; recycling bins are everywhere and we recycle as a matter of course.
There’s no time to fall in love with New England like a warm fall day when the leaves have changed and the sky is blue.
I’m smitten with this town.