Every time I go to Vermont, I want to drive through Smuggler's Notch.
And, most times I get my wish.
I love the road, the trees, the twists and turns, the name and the images that get conjured up in my head about why it has the name.
I start dreaming about the book that could be written.
I want to "hear" the author describe the beautiful silver, glimmering bark of the silver birch. I want to read the words that talk about the clean crisp green leaves layered against the subtle changes of fall colors. I want to read about how the air smells earthy.
I want to read about the people traveling through the narrow, rock encroached roadway that winds its way along the side of the mountain.
I know it's a story that I would read with great hunger for what is on the next page.
I can feel it.
But, I had to say good-bye again. I'll be back soon..... looking for more of the story.
