It’s snowing in Montpelier, VT, this morning.
This gentle, whimsical snow is so pretty.
Lazy flakes of snow settle on my clothing and skin, but there is not enough to settle on the ground.
Perhaps this is Vermont’s way of apologising to me for yesterday’s misery.
Travel
Montpelier, VT.
Montpelier is a very pretty city. Quirky storefronts, colourful houses, clean streets, and big churches. The shops and businesses here have clever names – there is obviously a culture of thoughtfulness and word play here that I really admire and enjoy.
One gets the distinct impression that there is money here. This is, perhaps, the playground of the well-to-do who like having ski resorts and snowfields conveniently close. I don’t see any small or beat-up houses, nor any old cars in the street or driveways. People here might not all be rolling in it but, generally speaking, they are closer to being “rich” than the people in my small country town or any other town like it.
It would be great fun to explore some of these shops, but it’s getting late and people are closing the doors and heading home for the night.
I don’t blame them.
Roadtripping #4
The border crossing at Highgate Springs was easy. Too easy. No lines, no drama. No official acknowledgement of my heartbreak at leaving Canada so soon.
Our passports were scanned and we were waved on.
We are heading into Vermont late in the afternoon.
I don’t want to be here. I want to be back in Canada, following my original plans and enjoying the company of those with whom I had planned to pursue those dreams. Tears and resentment make it hard to see or appreciate anything much.
It wasn’t meant to be this way. It’s not OK. I’m not OK.
Take me back. Please?
The RV rumbles down highway 89.
In the hope of finding somewhere to stay overnight, we pull in to an information centre.
The guy there tells us that there are no campgrounds open yet – the “season” doesn’t start until May 1. Then he tells us that there are no “travel plaza” truck stops in Vermont, because “that kind of commercialisation” is not what Vermont is about.
Fabulous.
More tears.
I’m over it.
Let’s turn around and go back to Canada.
No, eh? Damn.
Another traveller informs us that Walmart allow/welcome campers in their parking lots because they know there is nowhere else for them to go at this time of year.
The information centre guy fills his ‘information’ role by googling Walmart locations for us. Thanks buddy, but we are capable of doing that ourselves.
We head for Montpelier and Barre in the hope of finding a friendly Walmart.
Thank God we are self-sufficient. And thank God for Walmart.
Oh, Canada #2
Oh, Canada.
I don’t want to leave you.
It’s too soon. I want more.
I don’t care about cold, or snow, or wintery pictures.
I’m not done loving you yet.
I promise you, I am coming back.
This is not goodbye. This is “see you later, eh!”
Wait for me.
Quebec #4
Philipsburg, St Armand… Finally.
I have wanted for so long to be here.
It’s a small, quite old-fashioned village. It’s late afternoon on a cold day, so there is nobody about. The crisp air bites at my face as I stand at the shore of Lake Champlain. My mind sees the images of the lake in different seasons that I have looked at so often, taken from this same vantage point.
Today my photographs are of the frozen lake, still deep in its hibernation over winter. I now have a complete set.
The Canadian Legion branch 82 is closed today, but I know what it is like inside anyway.
The church nearby is also closed, but in my mind I see a happy couple and a proud father on the steps, smiling for photographs and enjoying their special day.
I know a number of the locals, although they do not know me.
I take photographs for the memories, but I know I will return. Part of my heart remains here. I’m never really far away.
Quebec #3
It’s common knowledge that the French language is far more prominent here in Quebec than anywhere else in Canada.
I’m glad for the few polite phrases of French that I knew before I got here, and people are very encouraging when I use them. Even so, they recognise my limitations and the people of the Eastern Townships are quite happy to switch to English in order to continue conversation.
I wonder if they recognise how much I love this place, even though it’s my first physical visit. I wonder if they sense my connection.
Whether they do or not, I am feeling it very strongly. Is it odd to feel that this place is my home in some way, or that I belong here because a piece of my heart lives here? In my mind, seeing these places and walking these streets is the most natural thing in the world.
I’m going to work on improving my French so that I can do better when I return.
Quebec #2
Canton de Bedford.
I’m walking down the Rue Principale.
It’s a pretty town, in some ways quite rustic. Charming.
The lady in Boutique Micheline is very friendly, and we chat about the scarf I have chosen to buy.
I wander back down the street, past Cafe Rouge to Metro where I buy things for dinner. I think we got the one slightly grumpy cashier in the place. Everyone else is delightful.
I like Bedford and would quite happily come back.
Quebec #1
The Rivière Richelieu is the first unfrozen river we have seen in days.
Roadtripping #2
Today is bathed in sunshine.
There are still drifts of snow by the road and in the fields, thickest under the pines and cedars where the sunlight has not yet penetrated. If this weather keeps up, that won’t last too much longer. Canada might actually get the spring weather she has eagerly awaited for so long.
We’re driving on Route 401, heading for Ottawa.
Snowing.
Gentle, pretty, tippy-tappy, fluttery snow this morning.
There’s a black squirrel playing in it.
Perfect.
Canada is doing everything in its power to bewitch me.
An Aussie Maple Leaf, adrift on the wind... 