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Fortified with a wonderful meal, we continued our aimless wandering through Vermont.
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It’s hard to take a bad photo there, especially in the fall. Mountains, trees, and cows.
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Mountains, cows, and farms.
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Every once in a while you’ll pass through a town.
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Then it’s back to mountains, trees, and cows.
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And a very serious porch lover.
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Also, there were fish.
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I have no explanation for random fish, but they were delightful all the same.
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So help me out here as I’m not a coffee drinker.
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What kind of puck are they sucking, and why?
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I read the description and still have no freakin’ clue.
Another question – have we entered into a Mad Max universe? Because I didn’t get the memo.
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As seen at a stop light in Lewiston, Maine.
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Granted Lewiston isn’t the nicest city in my beautiful state, but this seems a little extreme, even for them.
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As we were randomly driving around Vermont we hit Montpelier, the capitol, and remembered there was a fabulous high end restaurant we’d enjoyed on previous trips.
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Welcome to J. Morgan’s Steakhouse.
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A fabulous place that’s actually part of a hotel. It has a very retro, 1920’s, prohibition era type feel….
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And we hit it at the perfect time since you can rarely get in without reservations.
Apple cider mule?
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Don’t mind if I do.
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It was 3:00pm… but since we hadn’t eaten since breakfast, we decided to be tacky (really) early birds and go straight to dinner. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. Which kind of sucked because this place can be pricey.
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A marvelous wedge salad with maple bacon and homemade blue cheese for me, the prerequisite French Onion soup for the spouse.
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The rack of lamb was tempting but I opted for the jumbo shrimp scampi instead.
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Good call. It was scrumptious, with just the right amount of garlic and wine.
And because we were in a steakhouse?
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The filet mignon with burgundy reduction for the husband.
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We basically had the whole place to ourselves, just a few customers scattered here and there. And those amazing lights?
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Made sure the rare filet my other half ordered was definitely that.
If you’re ever in Montpelier? Be sure to stop here. You won’t be disappointed.
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Seeing that we were in Robert Frost country, we followed his example and took the road less traveled.
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In Vermont that means one minute you’re passing open fields and meadows…
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And the next you’re driving a road cut through a mountain.
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My car was straining on some of the inclines, I can’t imagine bicycling up it.
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Or down it in the drizzle and fog.
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That pretty much describes the way we travel. I pick a spot of interest and we explore at will along the way.
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You never know what you’ll find.
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Like this sweet little riverfront park in the middle of nowhere.
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With a touching memorial rock.
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And some funky flora.
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Required selfie.
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And more heartfelt rocks.
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Rock snot!
Proof positive you really do learn something new every day.
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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.
🙂
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Vermont is a predominantly rural state. It wouldn’t surprise me if the cows outnumber the people, and that’s fine by me. In this rural landscape, you’ll see barns.
Lots and lots of barns.
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Red barns.
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Brown barns.
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Barns with cows outside.
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And barns with cows inside.
My husband was positively beside himself the whole time we were there. Every time we’d pass an old, slightly neglected looking barn he’d mumble about getting inside and poking around for old tools and treasure. Thankfully I managed to restrain him before he was arrested for trespassing, but the dreaming over what might be inside continued… until it reached its peak here.
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A round, and extremely well cared for barn.
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Attached to a large farm house which turned out to be a lovely inn, he was besotted.
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It was all I could do to keep him in the car.
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Admittedly it was a beautiful thing, but not the type of place that would take kindly to random strangers poking around unsupervised.
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Now that’s what I call the perfect mailbox.
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As we headed out on the morning of our only full day in Vermont ( 3 days, 2 nights is simply too short a trip) we enjoyed the leaves and the scenery and headed for what I was told was the best bread in the state.
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The Red Hen.
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It’s a bakery and cafe.
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So we sidled up to place an order.
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And watched the pros at work.
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I grabbed two loaves of fresh bread to take home, (a crusty peasant white and an unbelievably tasty lemon rosemary) but had to try a mushroom toasty while we were there as well.
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The husband had some sort of homemade soup I didn’t get around to photographing because my sandwich was simply too divine to ignore. 3 types of sautéed mushrooms with spinach and melted cheese on whole grain bread. Sounds simple but there was an unidentified herb in the cheese and it had me smiling ear to ear.
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Clearly this long armed chicka by the door could have used one.
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Onward….
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Morning dawned and after breakfast we headed out through The Notch again.
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Big rocks?
Check!
We drove through Stowe, one the most picturesque New England villages you’re ever apt to find.
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This is the money shot people line up on the side of the road for when the leaves are at peak. We were a little early, but trust me it’s glorious in full color.
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Stowe is lovely and filled with interesting little shops and restaurants that we didn’t have time to explore this trip.
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It was also raining, which kills the joy of leisurely strolls for me.
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Even if there is a covered bridge for pedestrians.
A bit further down the road, I saw something out of the corner of my eye and hollered at the husband to stop. (He loves that. Don’t let him tell you differently.)
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I have no idea the why of this, but slightly off the road in a little clearing was this beautiful metal eagle. I should have taken a selfie for scale, but I’m 5’4 and stood under the wing no problem.
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There was a sign to the right with the artist’s name and number but it was so faded I couldn’t make it out. My husband was glad of this, because I kept saying how absolutely fabulous this guy would look in front of the man cave/Barn Mahal.
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👍
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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.
🥴
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As you know, the husband and I have a timeshare and it’s through that we do most of our traveling. In the six years we’ve owned it we’ve been to some fabulous resorts…. Sedona, Williamsburg, Palm Coast… all wonderful. Killington, not so much. Our choice this trip was Smugglers Notch, a ski resort in Jeffersonville Vermont we’ve visited twice before. Our first stay was marvelous, our second less so. It’s a bit of a crap shoot which unit and community you’ll be assigned, and seeing that this was a last minute booking at peak leaf peeping season, there wasn’t any wiggle room.
The resort is tucked away on the side of a mountain and is quite large.
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We like peace and quiet and prefer the condos on the edges, away from the center village’s restaurants and shops. So naturally they booked us into Evergreen, right behind the main office.
Pro – we got the top floor and could see the mountain from our balcony.
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Con – we were right next to the chair lift.
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Pro – the unit was large. Two bedrooms, 2 baths, fireplace and full kitchen. Solidly built, we never heard doors closing or noisy neighbors.
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Con- the decor hadn’t been updated for decades and was extremely plain.
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Pro- the king size bed was very comfortable.
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And there was a free box of maple cookies to munch while reclining.
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Con- there was a jacuzzi tub in bedroom. I’ve seen this at a quite a few other resorts and it never fails to surprise me. Tubs belong in bathrooms, period.
🥴
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And by the way…
The eighties called, they want their wallpaper back.
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Mirrors?
Oh yeah, there were plenty of those.
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Damn. That was a whole lotta me to wake up to every morning.
😳
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River's world..... 