And when our rustic cabin was decorated in a soft fall of snow laying like a white cloak over the land for two days we lit a log fire and watched white smoke curl out over the roof of our snow capped cabin. Lovely landscape!
Vermont is all hills. Its hills are completely clothed in deciduous trees. The sheer number of trees in fall colour in Vermont could almost be declared a natural wonder of the world during October. The number is staggering; the changes of colour quite breathtaking.
Besides its beautiful hills Vermont is decorated in white church spires. Tiny white painted wooden churches in every village. Quaint and gorgeous. Then, dotted on little side routes, over tiny gushing streams, are dozens of old rustic covered bridges built in ages past to protect the wooden supports from snow and water damage -- labelled freshly with the bridge builder's name. Americans honour them still.
Quite a rural state, Vermont -- many of its towns are tiny compared with other states we've passed through. This sense of rurality pervades the way people live. Many homes in the north are actually static caravans placed loosely on large lots of land -- where vast front yards are used as storage space for strewn toys by the dozen, old cars by the half dozen, and ride-on mower relics, and other disposable items by the score. Steptoe would have been delighted to have parked himself in front of any of them.
Further south, the homes and gardens are mostly traditional, with villages sporting pretty white-washed clapboard homes: all storybook images and picturesque. Covered in a technicolour coat of falling leaves.
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