L is G in VT
It’s as green as green gets now. The countryside, the bluish purplish mountains and lakes pull on our Irish heart strings. The fireflies have all but come and gone for another year. Oh, but what a year it was. Katrina-like rains of a week ago have wrung themselves out to beautious warm summer days we long for – that we looooooong for. Bright planets go unnamed in the night’s sky. Some red. Mars maybe? Big Dipper tipping to the north. Cassiopeia. They’re all there for another summer. Comforting like old friends on the front porch at night.
How can we turn our sights away from a national election? Our environmental mess? Gas prices? George Bush? His insane war? Our hearts weighted as our personal lists lengthen.
Hope and beauty, kindness and love are found in the most unusual places.
The berries at the Charlotte Berry Farm have been exquisite. Burlington’s July 4th waterfront fireworks were knockout – again. The Charlotte beach. Lazy middle aged hilarious tennis games. Laughter from our bellies. We’re walking more these days. Maybe polluting less. Three times up and around Mount Philo in two hours is a new record.
My girlfriend just extended her stay today instead of flying back to Minneapolis (she’s hopes to reclaim being down two sets in our week long tennis tourney). Now, we can share more of the beauty of our unfolding hearts. We can settle into our skins. We’re living in “bonus time land.” How nice is that? I’m trying to figure out if it’s my front porch that keeps her here with its sweeping views overlooking Lake Champlain and the Adirondack Mountains to the west. Or is it the morning ritual for triple shot medium latees with 2% milk with a wave of vanilla? Dumpster diving at Tueday Morning? Project runs to Home Depot and Lowe’s. Fiddling with final touches from Spring’s kitchen renovation? Or maybe, it’s just me? Nah, it’s ALL of the above and below.
Summer in Vermont.
My dog is learning to BE A DOG. Less afraid of the cat. Less cowering. Chasing her squeaky toy until exhaustion and her tongue drag along the ground past her tail. Gaining new found confidence and self esteem. Jumping with her hind legs in mad chaotic atheltic scamper.
Went to Elton John. His first ever visit to Vermont. How can we ever forget his performance at the Fair Grounds? This wasn’t Ravinia. It was a fairground in Vermont.
Danced with my daughter to Michael Franti at the Shelburne Museum.
Attended a photography class with acclaimed regional photographer, Peter Miller, in the mountains of Stowe.
Hopes remain alive. Beauty and love are everywhere. This state is magical.
L is G (life is good).
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