The swirling surface of a mountain brook reflects the sun’s rays piercing the forest canopy above, as it laughs down the mountainside after days of spring rain. A watercolored impression of a day and a place that will happen but once – and I was a part!
Rain clouds slide down the eastern pitch of the Green Mountains, darkening the waters of a roadside pond in the heart of Marlboro, Vermont. A northwest breeze roughens the shallows as the redwings fall silent and melt into a screen of cattails.
The monument to Brattleboro’s fallen in the Great Rebellion anchors the Common on the north end of town; America’s heartrending Civil War of 1861-1865 pulled 34,000 Vermonters into a faraway world of bloodshed and confusion. To this day, many cellar holes can be found in forests regrown over the hillside farms abandoned in the decades after the conflict, their native sons never having returned home. Vermont’s constitution was the first to abolish slavery, even before it was admitted as a state to the Union. Memorial Day is a day to remember, consider, and hope for better.
Three lights punctuate the steel siding of the Boys and Girls Club on Flat Street in Brattleboro, Vermont; a lush braid of fox grapes(Vitis labrusca) surges past on a guy wire, gathering momentum in the spring sun after a rain shower.
A northbound New England Central freight waits on a siding as Amtrak slides by, pulling into Brattleboro’s Union Station with the 5:10 pm St. Albans-bound Vermonter. Moments like these bring out the train-loving boy in me, from 40 years ago…