How many?

Repeated forecasts of endless gloom have proved false, but they are as good an excuse as any to enjoy brilliant days while we can and Spring passes so quickly…

So, we’d go for a drive. But where to?

You really can’t go wrong in Vermont, so consulting the map, I programmed the GPS to take us to Wilmington. (There are no less than 13 in the USA).

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When driving in New York, we mostly take back roads, zig-zagging across the countryside, to avoid busy highways. Busy meaning having another car somewhere in view.

However, there are times when other drivers are inconsiderate enough to follow us, interfering with our ability to slow down for sightseeing. So we stay off the highway, often following dirt tracks to see where they lead.

Once or twice, we have beaten a hasty retreat when we ended up in dodgy-looking places where we expected to hear strumming banjos. Since a woman was shot dead a couple of years ago, not far from here, turning around when she’d ended up in the wrong driveway, we make a point of not repeating her most unfortunate error.

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In Vermont it is not as easy getting around on country roads, Everywhere we want to go seems to be the other side of the Green Mountains, accessible only by a main highway, so we took one we’d previously explored going to Brattelboro and more recently, Bellows Falls.

With the seasons, however, everything changes and in any case, the scenery is very pleasant. We chose Wilmington because there is Woodford State Park en-route, and a reservoir nearby.

The park – not open, the reservoir difficult to reach, but we found our way to what I believe was Spruce Lake where we located another token pair of geese.

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We listened to the gentle lapping of waves on the shore and the call of another pair of geese flying off, then got back in the car and re-programmed the GPS for Jacksonville, – at least 15 of those in the USA!

We decided to circle around the bottom of the reservoir and cut back up to route 9 which would take us in the direction of home.

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We’d gained some altitude and up here the trees were less advanced.

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There were almost no homes up here and there was not a soul in sight.

When we go for a drive, I am always on the look out for rivers or streams. Here, like almost everywhere, we found them, but were unable to stop, since if we did, that would be the precise moment a solitary car came down the road.

From Jacksonville, we proceeded to Whitingham (the one and only!) and found ourselves passing a memorial to Brigham Young who apparently was born nearby.

En-route from there to Readsboro ( also just 1), we suddenly got our wish…

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A place to stop beside what turned out to be the Deerfield River!

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How wonderful is the sound of rushing water?

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A little further along, we found an even better place, where we could leave the car…

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…and follow a path through the woods to the river bank.

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Without even a hint of distant traffic, Nature was the only sound.

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We had not set out with anything particular in mind, but we were delighted.

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Perhaps if we’d known, we would have packed a picnic and stayed for the afternoon.

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Picking our way across the boulders was slightly precarious for me, as my balance is unreliable and of course, I’d not brought my trusty walking stick.

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But having found access, I intended to enjoy it. Cautiously.

Fool I may be, but not a big fool.

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On a hot summer’s afternoon, this would be the perfect place.

We made a note to return and set course for home, which turned out to be less straightforward than we expected…

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