I love the woods around my town this time of year. They are so stark and barren, quite romantic in a gothic/Wuthering Heights sort of way. The branches have a life of their own without leaves; I love the way the church spire peeks out between them, it reminds me of how old-New England must have felt, though admittedly not much has changed in Woodstock over the centuries...
I'm pretty sure this is the cave that we thought housed a troll when we were kids.
Two roads diverged...
Yard work, to prepare for the coming snow
barn doors and scuffed boots... ah I miss Vermont
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