The correspondence between the look of the landscape and the way you feel and act becomes all the more apparent during a good leaf peeping season in Vermont. A mountain range lit with the red-orange fire of maples can ignite a quick exuberance in the individual. It might make you bomb a hill on your board, power-slide some leaves on the sidewalk, or given chance (which actually isn’t that rare in VT), chase a bunch of turkeys in a meadow. Sometimes the colors make us a little more wild. And yet, like the leaves, just as we catch fire, we inevitably fall.
Steve and the esteemed professor of philosophy, Brian Glenney, find new frontier beyond the borders of road and sidewalk.
Things are still. The air is heavy and moist. Up above, the mountains merge with cloud. Then, close by, brittle leaves are startled by wind. A quick flake follows. Then another. Then more. While roads and sidewalks will soon be rendered unrideable, skateboarding nonetheless feels celebratory as flakes thicken and a flurry of confetti descends upon Manchester.
Recently a few hundred trees were clear cut directly behind our property. Our neighbor’s motive: to aesthetically improve his land with a view to the church steeple in town. Picturesque. Afterwards, Davey Crockett scoured the clearing for leftovers and built a mountain man rail.