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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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