Nothing unfurrows my brow like a few days in Vermont.
We visit as often as we can.
Breathing feels easier.
Right about now the meadows fill to overflowing with daisies, black-eyed Susans, buttercups, and Indian paintbrush.
Vermont feels wide, wide open and all that green, green space makes me feel like whatever’s all tight and taunt inside me is unfurling – and free.
There’s a farm ’round every bend in the road and pastures full of horses, cows, and sheep.
In Vermont, it’s cool talk to all the animals, because … well, why not?
Maybe there’s some sort of simplicity to be found here, a respite from other, more common complications and worries.
Or maybe it’s not the place, but me. Maybe it’s me who’s different here.
Could be. Might be. May be.
Maybe I change.
When I’m in Vermont I feel like my most true self. And something I can’t quite explain happens to me every single time I cross the border.
Vermont, I love you and I know you love me right back.
Peace. Love. Vermont.