At last the rugged
traveling bicycle crew road warriors come home from their raid of the North
Country. They arrive safely to their point of origin atop the hill, down in the
valley below, in the sod house nestled under the shade of the hemlock trees. We
roll in down the hill proud, and overwhelmed by the old sights so long awaited
for. Fueled in the last few miles by chocolate and ice cream and the motivation
of home, we were glad to be back, and were greeted by corn chowder, goulash and
familiar faces. As the hot sun sets into the hills, and sleep sets in, the
growing evening dark creeps over us and sends our weary souls to bed.
The twelve days of
road touring brought us new sights. We farmed, we fared rain and thunder storms
and went to museums, we saw the weather go from freezing cold to scorching hot,
and traveled the road to unknown corners of adventure. The mosquitos procreated
like mad and repopulated the land with their kind. Onward the brave eleven
rode, up the Green Mountains, into the valleys of lush vegetation and down the
road home.
We farmed at places of
all shapes and sizes. We farmed at Someday Farms, a quaint little spot that
became our support away from support, our cheerleaders in eggs and potatoes. We
learned about their many chickens and their year round growing season. Much
love to Mara and Scout of Someday for all their support and care of us when the
rain came down and the thunder ripped the sky. We slept in a cabin that looked
much like a powder keg, and met a troupe of authentic farming Jamaicans, while
farming the big organic farm, Harlow’s.
 |
| Someday Farm |
The weather treated us
with strange hands. In thunder stormed hard and beautifully, and it got cold
and wet like you wouldn’t believe on Memorial Day. We huddled under our
dripping tarp, reading books to pass time, eating cream cheese to stay warm.
And then, as if all of the sudden the switch was thrown, the sun came and baked
us in a steam oven. The humidity rose and the sun got hot, but it was a welcome
change.
 |
| Climbing Mt Equinox |
Riding up the hills to
base from Alstead was a familiar sight, and to stave off the heat and to keep
ourselves in high condition we swam in every stream and lake on the way. And
then it happened. We were there, the last hill rode out and the little valley
with the village at the bottom opened up and a small crowd of well-known faces
was there. So distinct were the sights, truly how the time has crept up on us
so fast. It was just yesterday that it was February with snow, and now the
garden grows, flourishing with plant and flower. Much has changed since we’ve
been gone, and yet much is the same. We’ve come back to a place we thought we
once knew, and now know it in such a different lens. But it is not an
unpleasant change at all, for there is much to see, once again as before.
 |
| Working at Harlow's |
 |
| Lunch at Merck Forrest |
At last the rugged
traveling bicycle crew road warriors come home from their raid of the North
Country. They arrive safely to their point of origin atop the hill, down in the
valley below, in the sod house nestled under the shade of the hemlock trees. We
roll in down the hill proud, and overwhelmed by the old sights so long awaited
for. Fueled in the last few miles by chocolate and ice cream and the motivation
of home, we were glad to be back, and were greeted by corn chowder, goulash and
familiar faces. As the hot sun sets into the hills, and sleep sets in, the
growing evening dark creeps over us and sends our weary souls to bed.
The weather treated us
with strange hands. In thunder stormed hard and beautifully, and it got cold
and wet like you wouldn’t believe on Memorial Day. We huddled under our
dripping tarp, reading books to pass time, eating cream cheese to stay warm.
And then, as if all of the sudden the switch was thrown, the sun came and baked
us in a steam oven. The humidity rose and the sun got hot, but it was a welcome
change.
