Sunday, March 7, 2010


Before we moved to Vermont, the three of us lived in an apartment complex right outside of Ann Arbor, Michigan. It was so flat there that any little rise in the road felt like an Elevation Occasion - they just didn't happen all that often. After M and I came to Vermont for job interviews, the one things that stayed most vivid in my memory was the mountain behind the bookstore. More than anything I wanted to go to work every day and see that sight. Fortunately I got my wish. After visiting this area over the course of five years, we were finally able to move here and make our home in this valley. Everywhere you look there are mountains. I find them to be: beautiful, looming, glorious, protective, impressive, challenging and constant They provide a backdrop for almost everything we do here. This week marks our tenth anniversary of living in Vermont. I can't imagine our lives anywhere else.

Our house contains many mountains. Laundry, mostly. Papers that I'm sure are Very Important but that I can't seem to find the time and energy to sort. Toys, books, dishes, dogs. I don't need to look outside to find a ridge line - I need only to glance in the game closet for a towering spectacle. Erosion and landslides are a part of daily life. Sometimes I obey the odd urge to organize and contain, but mostly I cook meals, write, play with my kiddos, and watch the occasional British murder mystery with M. If we get tired of the mountains inside our house, we can always go outside, where mountains are for climbing, digging tunnels through, sliding down, striding across, and tossing other bodies off of. There are plenty of mountains around us - we all get to be king of at least a couple.

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