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.