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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THEN, THE RAIN

A bright, beautiful first morning at the cabin

A bright, beautiful first morning at the cabin

It rained hard most of the day yesterday and started off with heavy rain this morning, too.

Rays of sunshine through the last of the morning mist

Rays of sunshine through the last of the morning mist

It’s ironic. All summer, it has been sunny and dry. Beautiful weather, pretty much from May through September.  As soon as we got to Maine, it began to rain.

And then, it rained ...

And then, it rained …

Maybe it’s nature’s way of telling me I need to relax … to not run around doing “stuff.” Still, it is gorgeous here and I was looking forward t the opportunity to take some pictures.

Rain, rain ...

Rain, rain …

I did take some shots of the rain yesterday, but it’s hard to see it. You can see it’s wet, but the rain is elusive.

PASTELS IN A GAUDY TIME OF YEAR

Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Soft Pastels

Everything is so bright in New England in October, it’s a surprise to find the softer colors. They are here, though, waiting to be discovered.

Morning mist on a stand of autumn birch

Morning mist on a stand of autumn birch

Looking down towards the setting sun on Attean Pond just west of Jackman, Maine.

Hints of bright color in the woods while all else is bathed in soft tones of twilight

Hints of bright color in the woods while all else is bathed in soft tones of twilight

A field of bright foliage contrasts with the gentlest blue of the mountains

Blue mountains as far as eyes -- or camera lens -- can see

Blue mountains as far as eyes — or camera lens — can see

OCTOBER ON CHESTNUT STREET

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It wasn’t a photo excursion. We were driving from a doctor’s office to the mall. To PetSmart, to get extra dog food. And biscuits. Have to make sure the doggies have plenty of kibble and biscuits. They’ve never missed a meal and I wouldn’t want this to be the first time.

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The road between North Street and Route 140 is lovely. The woods is bright because this woods is dominated by alders. They turn bright yellow in the fall, and unlike the oak, they don’t form a canopy to block the sun.

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The train tracks cross the road, though I’ve never seen a train. We have train tracks running through Uxbridge too, but no train station … not any more. What used to be the train station is now a real estate office. Once a week, you can hear the wail of the train’s whistle as it rumbles through, coming from somewhere. Going somewhere else.

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I don’t know what it is about this train crossing, but I love it. Something about the way the road dips and curves. It reminds me of something, but I’m not sure what. It makes me wistful, as if there is a memory somewhere tucked in a corner of my brain … but I don’t know where.

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The leaves were bright today. Not at peak. Not quite. At least I don’t think they are at peak … yet they are falling, even before many of the trees have changed color. It’s as if autumn has been short-circuited. Is it the lack of rain?

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As you read this, we are on somewhere between Uxbridge and Jackman, Maine. On the northbound road. I may not be able to check in today, but I will see you tomorrow. Have a great day!

OCTOBER BY THE BLACKSTONE CANAL

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This section of the Blackstone Canal, where the river and the canal divide and run parallel for some miles downstream, is particularly beautiful.

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It’s beautiful in every season, but when the leaves are changing, it is awesome. Awe-inspiring.

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The colors are not as bright this year as they were last year. They seem to be peaking, yet many trees haven’t changed at all. An odd sort of Autumn. Perhaps we will get a second wave of color.

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