Heading back to the resort for the last time it looked like there was a hole in the sky…
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And before long we were approaching the Notch.
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These signs are on both entrance sides to the road and it took me a few minutes to figure out what they were talking about.
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TT’s won’t fit?
How odd.
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As we entered the Notch, rain. I swear the mountains make their own weather.
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Godzilla barfing?
No, just falling rocks.
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Not sure if you can tell from the photo, but the road is positively pink. Vermont has the oddest color tar in places. Perhaps it’s mixed with Ben and Jerry’s Strawberry Shortcake…?
Since our neighbor was caring for Lord Dudley Mountcatten… as well as feeding the fox and deer.. a thank you gift was required. This meant dragging my husband shopping and you know if it isn’t antiques he isn’t happy.
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A bottle of local Vermont wine…
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And some Vermont chocolates were perfect, but then I lost the husband in the store.
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You knew he’d find something vintage, right?
He actually collects these old gas station oil bottles and was thrilled to find a complete set with the holder. He was less than thrilled to find they were being used as decoration and not for sale.
He was so grumpy about that he wouldn’t let me go back and purchase this special maple syrup.
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Which in hindsight was probably a good thing…
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Because as soon as I saw they had various Dog liquor I wanted one of each.
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But at nearly $200 for the pair it’s a good thing they were under lock and key.
Dudley does well on his harness/leash and knows his limitations, which in actuality is 30 feet. His chest to my wrist. His Lordship chooses the direction and we walk, stroll, sit and occasionally sprint. What we don’t do is climb trees.
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Until the other day when he sat at the base of the Bradford pear watching a bird one minute….
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And jumped onto the bark the next. Problem is, his lordship does not have any tree climbing experience and literally just hung there.
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He scooched a little farther up, with me trying hard not to laugh …
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And finally made it up on a lower branch. Which is when he looked at me as if to say, what the Hell do I do now?
One aborted climb later..
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It was over before it really begun.
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I give him an A for effort, but a D for technique.
I woke up yesterday morning to fog in our neighbor’s field….
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And the distinct sound of rumbling…. which at this time of year could only mean one thing.
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Fall in the country means bush hogging and as the sun started to break through, the hog was hard at work.
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Our neighbor hires a local man every autumn to knock down the growth in her fields. This is necessary if you want to keep fields from becoming forests and since he’s right next door…. we piggyback on the opportunity and have him do our little parcel of back field as well.
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And as I looked out on our backyard pre hogging, I was pleased to see the maple trees we planted this spring had survived the awful summer drought and were beginning to turn color like their larger neighbors.
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It was touch and go for a while. Maine was hot and dry for months and we’re on a well. I had to stop dragging my 300 feet of hose out there to water them and I feared our nearly $1,000 investment would shrivel up and die. But they seem to have hung on and for that I’m grateful.
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Later on in the day it was our turn.
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And those trees sure do make a dramatic background for hogging.
After checking into our resort there was still daylight left to burn,,,, so we jumped in the car for a scenic drive.
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Being Vermont, you can’t go far without seeing a covered bridge and this one was right down the road.
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The Grist Mill Bridge, built in 1872.
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And to the right of the bridge?
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Grist Mill Park.
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If you’re wondering where the grist mill is? Join the club, so were we.
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And as the sun was setting, we drove.
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No particular destination in mind, just enjoying the scenery and the oh so very green grass.
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Untouched photo. The fields really were that green. A pleasant respite from the awful brown summer we had in Maine.
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Gentle rain started to fall as it got dark and we turned back toward the resort. It’s a good thing the husband was driving because on one of the twisty turny mountain roads, on a corner, in the dark, in the rain… it happened. A full grown deer darted out right in front of us. Thankfully the husband’s reflexes were good, and thankfully no one was coming in the opposite direction. He swerved just enough so we didn’t have a deer come through the windshield, but it hit my car’s right front bumper with an awful thwack. We stopped. The deer ran off and seemed to be okay. My car? Not so much.
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The husband managed to push the panel back in place, but it was cracked in numerous places and the fog light housing was smashed.
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It could have been soooo much worse. But good grief, it was a helluva way to start a vacation.
We set off early Tuesday morning and it was a perfectly beautiful day. Sunny, with a delightful bite of crisp fall air.
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We hit the western Maine mountains before 10….
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And the New Hampshire White Mountains shortly after. Leaves were just beginning to turn and it was wonderful.
At 1:00?
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Hello Vermont! We’ve missed you.
And you’re welcome, though I’m not sure what we did to deserve your thanks.
If you’ve never been to Vermont? I have one word for you… go!
Verdant green fields and barn red barns. Gentle rolling hills and well tended farms. Picturesque mountain villages and of course, cows.
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It’s gloriously scenic, delightfully quirky, and utterly addicting.
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We were sad to see The Farmer’s Daughter gift shop had lost its daughter. There used to be a large sign out front of a farm girl with her skirt blown up… but all that’s left now are the hands, hanging disembodied and more than a little creepy.
We did see a giant hammer wind mill down the road…
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But it doesn’t bring the same smile to your face as that saucy wind blown wench.
When we headed north and west towards our resort, the weather took a turn.
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Eerie, ominous skies dominated the rest of the way and by the time we arrived in the little town of Jeffersonville?
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Rain. And so much high fog you couldn’t see the mountains.
To be continued….
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.