Even from high above, the evidence of winter’s arrival show in the locked-down and cracked-apart landscape of the northeastern United States.
A family farm on a hillside in northern Vermont at the start of winter is like an empty table, ready to be set for a meal. These and other folksy aphorisms, brought to you by a digital eye on a flying robot stabilized by orbiting artificial satellites and electronic gyroscopes. The future is excellent!
Horses don’t seem to mind the snow. Wintery Vermont afternoons, with the appropriate amount of horse treats, are just their style.
Deep in winter and summer, New England becomes monochromatic (white and green, respectively). Late fall is different; “stick season” has a broad, desaturated array of hues that stretch across the landscape.
A pony farm nestled in the hills of northern Vermont: with a ring and a pond by the house, what more can a young American dream of?
(At the moment I took this picture, the answer was, “snow.”)
Homes designed to weather the fierce winters of northern New England and the North Country have a particular structure: Something vaguely Scandinavian and reminiscent of a Viking longhouse. When the sun sets and the clouds gather for our (current) proper winter, I’m glad for the equivalence.
This winter that won’t begin has brought strange landscapes to New England. Along Little River through Stowe, VT, the environment is in a strange flux/limbo. Add the snow with imagination?