A mercifully short town meeting last night. Yesterday morning I split a couple of pieces of wood for the wood stove. Casually looked across the road and saw smoke rising from a chimney. The wind was blowing from the south. I realized that when I was growing up in California, I never knew what direction the wind was blowing from. At this time of year in Vermont, I always know the wind direction because it matters. Over the weekend the wind was blowing briskly from the north. It was very cold. Yesterday the wind was blowing from the south, not so cold.
On Sunday I watched a little bit of the golf tournament on TV. Grass and trees were a vibrant green, people wearing tee shirts. During most of the year I'm quite happy to be here in Vermont, but as the March lion roars, it's easy to dream of being somewhere else.
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