An overnight snow glazed the bittersweet I left outside on the porch yesterday. This morning it sparkles in the sun and reminds me to haul the last of the benches and chairs into the basement.
fall bittersweet
Stepping out onto the porch at mid-morning, I discovered the wispy clouds hanging over the mountain had lifted—leaving my mums splashed with sunlight.
autumn gold
Temperatures continue to drop all through the North Country and the crisp nights have sweetened up my carrots. I’m pulling the long, earthy roots with their lush foliage almost every day. On tonight’s menu: carrots scrubbed, halved, and quartered, then simmered until tender in a few tablespoons of butter, 1/2 teaspoon of orange zest and the juice of one orange. Yum!
Frost-sweetened carrots fresh from the garden
The Jerusalem Road near our cottage as it runs by the farm of our friends Jim and Nancy. The sun turns their trees to fire all along the road as it bisects the mountain.
A Country Road
The road to my cottage winds through the woods past a pond, and down to the hamlet of Jerusalem. There are a handful of houses and cottages at the crossroads, plus two tiny farmhouses that are each at least 100 years old. Turn left at an old henhouse and you’ll parallel the spine of some of Vermont’s tallest mountains, less than a mile from their peaks.
The road to Blackberry Cottage.
At any time of the day, the silence here is beautiful—broken only by the rustle of leaves, an occasional SUV, and the conversation of migrating geese.
Maple fire.
Is it any wonder we could never live elsewhere?
