The weather so far has been unseasonably mild and clear (to the frustration of our energetic friends who are polishing their skis and willing the forecast to signal that snow is on its way). Saturday was the first morning since we've been here that we've woken up to temperatures firmly below zero. We set off in search of a dead poet early in the morning under a clear washed-pink sky and fields frosted (appropriately) in white.
Robert Frost is one of my favourite poets. My very first English assignment at university had a Robert Frost poem as its subject, and I've read many of his poems so often that they're almost part of the way I think. Last time we were here, we visited his country cabin in Ripton and walked the trails that inspired much of his poetry. This time we were heading to Bennington, for his grave, and for the house he lived in from 1920-1929, where he wrote some of his most famous poems, including my favourite, "Stopping by woods on a snowy evening".
The grave was in a quiet place, and fringed with nickels placed by visitors. So, as well as adding nickels of my own, I left a New Zealand coin to say that we'd been there.
We enjoyed Bennington: the locals were friendly, and there was a lot to do in such a small town. We ate in laid-back cafes which served locally grown food and were furnished with old, squashy sofas.
We visited two amazing chocolate shops.
|Emily wishes to consume the chocolate moose|
|So much to choose from!! Chocolate turkeys anyone? Salted caramel chocolate snowmobiles? Curried chicken cashews??|
We visited the Bennington museum, which hosted a collection of Grandma Moses paintings...
|This was my favourite, named "The sugaring".|
The museum was guarded outside by (don't blame me, it's the testosterone) a rather iffy "Spirit of America". Hmmm. Really?
We drove through three beautiful covered bridges.
Finally, we made our way to Robert Frost's house outside Shaftsbury.
|Something there is that doesn't love a wall (thanks, Jerry!)|
How many times in this blog have I returned to this theme of "the road not taken"? But let's not go there today. Let's simply say that this was such a satisfying day, walking through a sleepy old town full of ancient memories of battles and glory, and poetry.