Got up early and went out to get the paper; mist was rising over a green pasture. The Ira brook whispered to me as I crossed the bridge and headed up to the main road.
5/28/10
The other day, Kathy and I drove along a ridgeline to the Eshqua Bog near Woodstock; dappled sunlight on the dirt road and surrounding greenery. Idyllic vistas of hillside, forest, and field. This morning I drove the spine of the Green Mountains on Doug Blodgett's annual mourning dove survey. Full moon setting over the Bliss farm. Steam rising over brooks and ponds. On both occasions there was the feeling, especially at the summits, that one was at the top of the world, and that heaven hovers low in the sky over the Green Mountain State. There was literally the feeling that one should hunch down in one's seat when driving along the hilltops lest one scrape up agains the Pearly Gates or some such.
I thought about Montana, and the Big Sky country. The majestic vastness of that place takes one's breath away. Vermont is kind of the little sky country. There is a lot of beauty concentrated in a small amount of space. A goodly number of heaven's tailings seem to accumulate here.
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