They told me low 40s. That's what the weather site said yesterday. And yet, as Todd and I rolled out from my house this morning -- not early mind you, late enough that the frost should have been gone -- it was 30 degrees. Oh, well, another long, cold one.
Which turned out to be lovely -- of course. This is New England.
 |
| Winter provisions, including precious Thermos of hot tea |
Thirty-five miles of New England peace and quiet, frosty farm fields, snow-capped hill tops, a small country reservoir with ice skein melting, glints of flowy reflection peeping through. Horrible road surfaces (March in Massachusetts), reasonably low winds for the season, and even a beam of sunshine here and there to warm our backs.
Amherst, Leverett, Shutesbury, Montague, Sunderland, Hadley -- names out of a hoary past, roll-calling the English settlers who carved a rough living out of this undulating, alternately frigid and steamy, scenic land. How lucky they were to be here, and how lucky we are, gliding along in their cart-prints, retinas absorbing the long, winding mirror of the Connecticut -- a swerving slice of sky embedded in the land. After the climbing was done, we followed that sweeping mirror home.
 |
| Lucky us |
3 comments:
You are hard men. That is what we call "drinking weather" down here in Florida.
Not as hard as you think. Hot tea and frequent stops. :-)
Post a Comment