This morning as I took my morning walk with my pup out to the back field, I noticed the first ice crystals forming on puddles and the beaver pond. This change of season never gets old for me. It’s so much more than the temperature changing. This change from fall to winter marks a pivot in my perspective from how I am seen by the world to how I see the world. From the wide awake of spring toward the dreaming sleep of winter. It is a time we can more clearly see the world and our place in it.
Am I being silly and just remembering with a sense of nostalgia, or is there something to this? When my daughter and grandson recently visited me here in Vermont from their home state of Washington, she remarked on how poor the quality of the fruit at the supermarkets here in New England was compared to in her home state. Later, when I went to visit them, my suspicions were confirmed. The apricots, peaches and citrus in Washington State were amazing (and yes, their juices were indeed running down my face). Those fruits were grown in Washington and stayed in Washington. It wasn’t the climate or a case of better farming practices, it was the fact that the fruit was local. Something gets lost in transport bringing West Coast produce to New England grocers.