IF ONLY I HAD AN EXTRA HOUR

Twenty-Five Seven

Good news — another hour has just been added to every 24-hour day (don’t ask us how. We have powers). How do you use those extra sixty minutes?

Twilight over the hills, Peacham, Vermont

Sunrise over the hills, Peacham, Vermont

If there were another hour in the day, it wouldn’t be enough. If there were another 5 or 6 hours in the day, it still wouldn’t be enough. Because sooner or later, you have to stop what you are doing and rest. Take a break. Stop moving, stop talking, stop the world. It’s time to get off.

Morning again and the mist

Morning again and the mist

The last couple of days have been continuous great conversation, fabulous food. Magical panoramas of a countryside so beautiful it seems like a dream. It’s been amazing. There aren’t enough hours in the day. Not enough hours to eat, talk, tour, take pictures, process pictures, write, answer comments. Socialize. Remember. Not even close.

I find myself having to face my own limits … I cannot do a single thing more and maintain any kind of balance. Yesterday, I realized I was not going to answer all the lovely comments and I was certainly not going to get to reading — or even skimming all the blogs I normally follow. I had been saving them, hoping that “later” I would get to them, but later, we were talking, remembering, laughing. Discovering we’d read the same book, shared many interests we’d never imagined.

Morning light on trees and fields

Morning light on trees and fields

Of course we know many of the same people. We knew that. We all went to the same college and worked at the same college radio station … that’s where so much of our lives because.

Our host was one of the early arrivals along with my first husband and a few others. They were the guys who turned it into a place where magic happened, where we invented ourselves, invented many things that are now part of media history. There had to be a first time for everything, but it is weird to realize that you were there — as an observer and sometimes, as a participant — in the creation of things that are now so basic to the broadcast industry that they seem to have existed forever.

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Yet they had a beginning. WVHC at Hofstra University was an incubator, a rich supportive environment for a bunch of creative kids who had ideas. New ideas. Because it was a different time, freer, with looser structure at the school — before so many rules and limitations were put in place — we had a chance to create new ways to do stuff.

Quiet country roads

Quiet country roads

And here we are, remembering, savoring people we know, the parts we played. Recognizing that things we and our friends did — invented — have made a difference. Truly changed the world and our industry. We really did it.

And all of this in beautiful Vermont where the leaves are golden and the last corn awaits harvesting. It is magic time.

A VERMONT AFTERNOON

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A drive around Peacham. The sun is shining and it is cool, not cold.

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The sugar maples are bare, but other trees, the gold and yellows are on display. It is so beautiful it’s hard to know where to look. And we haven’t yet seen a sunset.

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There are little roads that date from before the 1700s.

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Farms that have been owned by the same family for 200 years. Old school houses and classic houses. White clapboard churches — the symbol of New England.

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With the mountains, rolling hills, fields of corn and drifts of trees, it looks unreal. A painting. Too perfect to believe.

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MORNING IN PEACHAM, VERMONT

I’ll have to tell you about the epic drive across northern New England. Not today, but when I’m a little more recovered. It turns out that all the high speed roads in New England run north-south. If you are way up in the far north and need to go somewhere else, westward, which is also in the far north … there are not a lot of roads.

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It turned out, you take Route 2 out of Skowhegan. After then, just keep driving, driving, driving, driving until you get to Danville, Vermont. Make a left. Voila.

I am omitting the fun details. It was the most awful journey through magnificent, glorious mountains. They took my breath away while dealing with the dreadful driving and primitive roads made us crazy. Ambivalence redefined. Remarkably, we are alive and here in Peacham, Vermont.

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I just have a few of pictures for you of the morning mist rising off the pond, and the river behind the house in which we are absorbing our coffee.

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There are stories to tell and I will tell them, but today … we rest. Recuperate. Breathe. And absorb some of the most incredible scenery in the world.


Reader’s Block - F.Y.I – I haven’t read a book since I went on vacation more than a week ago. Barely written anything, either. C’est la vie.

MORE OF ATTEAN POND – GARRY ARMSTRONG

All text is from The Forest Society of Maine website:

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In 1984 the Coburn family, who had owned much of Attean Township since 1916, faced the need to sell their land, but wanted to find a way to protect the township’s stunning natural beauty, outstanding forest resources, and recreational traditions.

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FSM was established by the Society for the Protection of New Hampshire Forests to fill a unique niche and to conserve 18,067 acres in Jackman, Maine (Attean Township). The area includes important ecological areas, 15 miles of Attean Pond and Moose River shore front, scenic islands, mountain slopes, and productive forestland .

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At the time, the Attean easement was the largest conservation easement in the country, and the first easement in Maine to include the multiple values — recreational, ecological, and economic — produced by Maine’s forests.

Visit Jackman, Maine

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DREAMLIKE MISTY MOUNTAINS – MORNING AND TWILIGHT

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DREAMLIKE images that remind me of Middle Earth … but it’s northern Maine.

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These are the mountains along the Canadian border.

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Just look out the cabin door or drive a short way down the mountain. A breathtaking world of color, mist, mountains and clouds. Colors so unreal they feel like magic, as if trees are glowing from within.

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And down in along Route 201 toward Skowhegan …

path by the cabin in jackman