Home To Vermont

the rhythms of gregorian chant live in the hills of Vermont.
the browns, beiges and greens hit up against the blue sky or grey sky after mountains do…
there’s lots of rising and dropping in the landscape…not many flat Kansas-like expanses.
often i find me and my jeep going up a hill, i am three inches from the top,
i have no idea what i will see when i rise over the hump and become able to see a new horizon of what’s next.
as i approach it, i know i’ll be able to drive it, to ride it, to handle it.
in Vermont there are no lights on the roads, few guard rails, hardly any people or any police trolling the roads.
i am on my own humping the hills, careening around to go as fast or slow as i want without witness, without knowing…
the cows don’t care. they don’t look at me looking at them.
I pull the jeep up to the edge of the field to call them. they ignore me. sheep slide around on the horizon.
deer run across the driveway or quickly scale the gullies at the side of the road running to the woods
to get out of the way of big machines.

my mind and heart breath deeper at the border to Vermont when i cross the river.
i want to stop the car, get out and kiss the earth, like the Pope does, sucking up the stones and chewing them off the ground,
so glad to be back in my fields and forest.

Vermont, Vermont is like heaven on earth, but no one wants it. they say, “oh everything closes at six?”
they say, “where is there to go?” They say, “the people are not service oriented.” I smile, they are right.
There are not many places to go. Everything does close early.
The people are slow, self concerned and bothered to think of rushing at all.
it takes quite a re-orientation to negotiate one’s self from frenetic city life to the rural areas of mountains.
it rips up who one was used to being. the sun fades veneers. the wind beats the crap out of facades.
so much snow makes simple choices for survival imminent.
“do you want to go out and end up off the road or stay home and quilt by the fire?”

i had never liked the winter, the quiet, the dark, the frozen, the subterranean waiting for alter to make a showing…
i wasn’t a fan of passive, receptive or later, but thank God for Vermont. i am now..
the mystery of why heaven waits, seems to be because no one wants it… it seems like hell at first.