An Autumnal Travelogue: Tripping through New England.
12 September, 2009 § 4 Comments
Yesterday marked the beginning of my second annual fall travel season.
After running around the office, wrapping up last-minute tasks like a banshee,
I picked up Soren the Gray, a 2008 Vibe with license plate CWT 8828
which also served as my faithful driving companion last fall,
and loaded him up with informational materials, stand-up posters,
t-shirts, academic catalogues, extra pens
and the like – – not to mention the pre-requisite red suitcase
which I will be living out of for the next 11 weeks.
Then I waved good-bye to my next-door neighbor,
finished scrubbing out the fridge, took out two bags of trash,
locked the door (for once), pocketed the key and headed out on the road.
Scurrying golden leaves on the highway outside of Rochester’s bogs
when I drove past during the first leg of the 10-hour trip up to Maine
reminded me: it really is fall again. I love this season
and how gray highway pavement framed by an arching curve of
deciduous tree branches and cerulean skies
now instantaneously spells
autumn to me.
And I love that I have an opportunity again
to watch the transition from late dusks to crisp frosts
take place in so many different states.
Happenings on the mountainous winding way through New England:
– Driving through quaint down-town Bennington, Vermont
included multiple, rainbow-colored ceramic moose sightings
as the large creations stood proudly at various intervals
along a rainy, betwinkled Main St.
– Passing through Hillsboro, New Hampshire
was marked by an over-sized wooden sign reading,
“Homestead of Franklin Pierce, America’s Former President”
– – and not too much else around for miles.
– A white-hatted and nattily-dressed marine-in-training
attempted to race with me in tempo to the rapid wiper movement
on the last wet highway stretch from Kennebunk to Portland
around midnight; considering I’d been behind the wheel
for close to nine and a half consecutive hours,
I settled for glaring rather than flirting.
Photo of the Day:
Autumnal produce at a Saturday morning outdoor farmer’s market
on Mellen St in east Portland, Maine.
… Over 500 miles later and 24 hours later,
my first excursion to Maine
is off to a great start: I am spending the weekend in
Portland with one of my best friends who recently moved to the city herself.
Her apartment is tiny and full of character:
bathtub without a shower, high ceilings and
nooks crammed with colorful treasures
just begging to be explored.
(Did I mention yet my infatuation with the full-length stained glass window
awaiting a visitor at the second-floor landing of her Victorian residence?)
We’ve already consumed a pot and a half of coffee,
feasted on fresh produce purloined from a nearby farmer’s market
and seen enough boho-hippie types to satisfy Woodstock this morning.
Next up? Exploring the harbor and venturing out to Freeport
for a woodsy afternoon adventure.