A large tractor up ahead was chugging along at fifteen miles per hour, taking up much of the road...he couldn't go any faster. None of the cars behind could go any faster either. The farmer sat way up on top of this huge red goliath never looking back once. He was in no hurry...couldn't speed up the process from where he was to where he was going any sooner. A very common sight of which I never grow weary.
The tractor left a wake of freshly cut high grass on the side of the road leaving that sweet fresh scent to which nothing compares. You might say this is a spot where time stands still. The telephone poles atest to this fact...A thin wire that hangs lower in the middle and higher on the ends connect from pole to pole as far as the hill carries it and drops off beyond the line of vision. Not much change since the telegraph and it works just fine.
I live on a dirt road where you would expect a stage coach to pass by every now and then. But in this area, time has not stood still. The pick up truck has taken its place.
Soon after moving here, a neighbor invited my wife and I to their home to meet our neighbors. The scene in her home was right out of a Norman Rockwell painting. All the guests were seated in each corner of the room. Hands on laps and feet together. "Howdy, pleased you came over"...."This is Mr. & Mrs. Fern. They live in that house you see croos the road. It's the red one...can't miss it". "Over here is Evelyn Gretchin and Ed and Dale Bacon"...and so on and so forth. God, I was part of the painting! and I felt great!
The early morning bird sings his song probably the same as anywhere else, but here it sounds sweeter. Here and there a crow joins in with that raucus sound of his...but, that too sounds sweeter..comical. Maybe it's me hearing it differently. There's no muss or fuss here. No one is in a hurry.
A deep blue covers everything as evening makes its appearance. This is one color I have not quite been able to capture in my attempts to paint early evening. Don't know what there is about it, but it gets to me.
The winters are like a Currier & Ives print. The tree branches bend lower to the road and all color vanishes. Every visible object turns black & white and the smell of firewood fills the air.
Last winter, six deer came quietly and slowly into our front yard looking for food. My dogs saw them and set up a howl. Off they flew and did not return. Maybe this winter. The image remains though.
The sign "roadside mowing" really struck me. I have never seen a sign like that anywhere til I came to live here in Vermont.
