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It’s Maine.
It’s autumn.
No commentary necessary, just enjoy.
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❤️
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Fall in New England, when just driving down the road is a joy.
Tag Archives: photos
The journey home, continued…
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After traversing the Green Mountains in Vermont, we entered New Hampshire.
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Still mountains, but now they’re White. Although technically right now they’re red, orange and gold.
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This is a beautiful section of NH and one we drive through quite a bit in the autumn.
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There are random wooden moose.
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Glorious fall foliage.
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Random skeleton coffee house greeters.
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And more colorful scenery.
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I think my husband shed a tear over the state of this neglected barn.
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Common to this area? Random filling stations for crystal clear mountain fed spring water. Bring your bottles, fill for free and make some amazing tea or coffee when you get home.
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Yes, please.
Do that as well..
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The journey home.
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Since we weren’t in a huge hurry to get home, we took the longer scenic route back and that meant driving through the Northeast Kingdom.
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It’s a rural and mountainous region of Vermont, similar to areas in northern Maine with its low population density and differing political views.
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Unspoiled and undisturbed.
Beautiful? You betcha!
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This region takes their designation seriously so you’ll find “Kingdom” gas stations and “Kingdom” diners scattered throughout the area.
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There’s even a covered bridge staircase.
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While the majority of Vermont is an environmentally friendly, liberal, churn your own butter, Birkenstock type of place… the Kingdom is a bit wilder and leans much farther right. It’s often said there are two Maines, southern and northern.. I find that’s true of Vermont as well.
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And if you’re wondering how far north we were?
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I could see Canada from my window.
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And though we didn’t cross the border, Verizon let us know we might as well have.
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Goodbye Vermont, we’ll miss you.
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And so after a spur of the moment, last minute mini getaway… we headed home. Wishing we could stay longer and see Vermont’s foliage at its peak.
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Leaving the little town of Jeffersonville we passed what’s become a landmark.
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An artfully painted silo celebrating the area’s agricultural roots.
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We said goodbye to cows. (Alright, that was me. The husband grew up milking them and couldn’t care less)
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Did I mention there are a lot of cows in Vermont?
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There’s also a lot of corn.
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So much corn.
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Seriously, the stuff is everywhere.
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The one in which Lord Dudley Mountcatten attempts to climb a tree….
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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.
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Another scenic drive.
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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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Explanations needed.
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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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One of our favorites.
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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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Robert Frost was right.
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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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It’s hog time.
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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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River's world..... 