Homesick

This time of year makes me feel so homesick, if that's the right word, for Vermont. I grew up here in Texas, land of heat, Republicans, trucks and Cowboys fans, but after living 2 1/2 years up there, there's this achey feeling in the fall when Texas feels too flat and boring. Stale. I miss the lake, the kids in dreadlocks, the anti-Bush protesters, the weather--why can't we do crisp and cool and windy here? There's nothing like a stripey wool sweater to keep you warm instead of just in style. I miss the produce, the pick-your-own-everything, the farmers' markets. Even the normal grocery store up there had a produce department to be proud of. I miss the "moose crossing--beware of moose" signs every 100 feet on the road, and the fact that no road had more than two lanes--coming and going. I miss the concerned enviromentalists and my Western Herbalism class, and downtown Burlington that was 15 minutes from my house walking. I miss walking everywhere, leaving my car to hibernate in the driveway. I miss Speeder and Earls coffeeshop where my friend Becca worked, and Oakledge park where I took Alice all the time to run and run and run. That's what the picture is of. The colors in the fall up there are unbelievable: Vermont has a pre-skiing tourist industry based on showing folks the leaves. Those tourists made me feel smug, but I'd go now if I had the money. I miss my friends up there, even the Borders where I worked and the university. I even miss our creaky, tiny, impossible-to-heat-or-cool little house with all it's crooked doorways and slanted floors. In the fall you can fall asleep listening to the geese overhead; on their way from Canada, stopping over for a little while to catch their breath on Lake Champlain.

It's so boring here--you never wake up to three feet of snow and wonder where your car is under the drifts. I feel so lonely--besides D, everybody I know thinks that Texas is normal, even superior. I find myself seeking out people who've lived in New England. D tries to remind me about the winters, about the lack-of-light depression that fell on me like clockwork every year, about the lack of jobs. In September though, all I remember is Autumn.